


Uninvited

by crazyTXgradstudent



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, thorin oakenshield - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Acute stress disorder, Anxiety Attacks, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, But I don't quite know, Dark Thorin, Dragon Sickness, Dubious Morality, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Erebor, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Expanded Middle Earth, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I LOVE HAPPY ENDINGS, I'll add more tags as we go along, Inspired by The Hobbit, Medieval realism, Middle Earth, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Possible Dubious Consent, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, She might be a witch, Some are dying/have died, The Hobbit - Freeform, The Lonely Mountain, Thorin Broods, Thorin Feels, Thorin Oakenshield Is a Disaster, Thorin has lost his mind, Tolkien, Unnatural long life, lots and lots of angst, physical violence, thorin oakenshield - Freeform, trigger warnings for violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-01-23 18:43:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 61
Words: 157,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21324865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyTXgradstudent/pseuds/crazyTXgradstudent
Summary: I'm not good at summaries. Basically I needed another Thorin/OFC fic, so here were are. This is not the sweet, fluffy Thorin I’ve written previously.Please read the tags. Lots of violence, domestic and possible sexual in the beginning, and some possible later on. It does get better. Thorin is not himself. Hopefully he’ll come to his senses.This might not be the fic for everyone. If it’s not your cup of tea, please don’t read.**Also, Thorin is however tall as you need him to be**
Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield/OFC, Thorin Oakenshield/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 652
Kudos: 255





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

Her world was burning.

The smell of smoke, burning trees and burning homes, the terrified screams of families as they tried to flee. The dying screams of those who would not make it out, the squeals of animals and birds as they tried to flee, the sound of roofs collapsing. It was deafening, the sound of death and destruction. Out on the edge of the wild, Rowan ran as fast as her legs would carry her, clutching her bag at her side for she knew that she would need it. 

Once she got close enough to see, she was horrified, seeing fully that the city on the lake burned for the second time, the destruction of Smaug unbelievably come again in her lifetime. _It could not be, _she chanted to herself, over and over as she raced through the edge of the woods and back to the far edge of Lake-Town, back to where she hoped her home would still be. She ran and ran and ran, until finally, she came upon what was left of her home. What was left of her family's home. 

She fell to her knees, stumbling as the heat and smoky wind engulfed her, the smell of singed skin and burning wood overwhelming her senses. She would lose her entire family that day.

Her sister would pass first, her eyes clenched shut in fright as death took her, her little chest heaving mightily as her charred lungs grasped for the air that she could not reach. She was suffocating, her lungs closing as she slowly died. The heat that emanated off her, off her mother, off the house…Rowan would never forget that feeling. Her mother and sister quite literally burned alive, and she was here to watch them pass from this life to the next, a mostly unhelpful spectator. She had no idea where her father and brother were, and could only assume they were still inside the burning house. Tears rolled down her cheeks, muddying the soot and ash that coated her skin. 

“Rowan,” her mother whispered. “Take her hand. Help her to let go.”

Doing as she was instructed, Rowan quickly grabbed her sister’s hand and closed her eyes as her body became enveloped in pain. She winced, her skin burning and her eyes watering but she held fast. She could keenly feel what her sister was feeling, could feel the agony and terror, the suffocating fear of death as it lurked around the edges and waited to come in. After some moments, Rowan looked down, having gotten her wits about her, and stared at their joined hands. Her sister’s burned skin felt strange in her palm, and she prayed that the little one would pass quickly. As painlessly as possible. It was Rowan’s special gift, her mother said, to feel what other’s felt, and in turn, she could influence what they felt in return. She pressed closer, as much as she dared, her will batting with her sister's pain. 

“It’s okay, Laurin,” their mother whispered to her youngest. “It’s okay.”

Laurin sucked in a dry, coughing breath, and Rowan sobbed, forcing herself to hide her heartbreak and pain, and instead offer only peace and love and light to her little sister. She pushed aside the burning pain that her sister’s touch was causing her, and focused on peace and coolness, on respite and relief, and prayed with all her might that this would just be over. For all of them.

“Yes, Laurin. Open your eyes and see me,” Rowan forced a wobbly, pained smile. Her sister’s golden-brown eyes opened, the whites bloodshot with pain. Rowan’s own eyes met hers. “My little golden sister, I love you.” Rowan nodded sweetly, not breaking eye contact. She placed a palm gently at her little sister’s breast, right above her heart, and nodded as she whispered: “I love you so much. You can let go. I love you.”

In that moment, Rowan felt when her little sister was passing. The burning eased, and her own skin began to feel cool as Laurin’s lifeblood waned. She closed her eyes as Laurin did, and her heart rate began slowing, just as Laurin’s did. The image of her sister was burned in her brain, and she would never forget how the hair had been burned off her scalp, her dark eyebrows gone, her skin peeling, and lips cracked, the bleeding and blistering already begun. Her mother lay beside her, crying softly as she watched her child die before her very eyes, and all Rowan could do was cry for them both. A few more deep, laborious gasps, and the little one was gone. With her little sister finally at peace, Rowan turned her attention to her poor mother.

“Mama! What do I do? Please tell me!” She cried helplessly, not knowing where to touch her only remaining family member.

“Rowan…daughter...You must let me go.” Her mother’s voice sounded charred, a hoarse whisper that would haunt her daughter’s dreams for years to come. “I cannot bear this pain. Please…help me…”

“What do I do?” Rowan’s hands hovered over her mother’s skin, and she winced at the heat that was emanating off her.

“The belladonna. You know what to do.” A single tear pushed it’s way out of her mother’s eye and rolled down her cheek, it’s trail zigzagging through and over the cracked and blistered skin. They both knew what was being asked, as Rowan’s touch alone would never work on her mother; It never had, despite her trying to use it to get out of so many things as a young child. 

“But I cannot stay here alone, Mama,” Rowan sobbed. She could not survive in this world, alone.

“I must go to your father. I must take care of my children. Please, you have to help me.” Her mother somehow lifted a charred hand to her daughter’s face, cupping her wet cheek in her burning palm. Rowan flinched, now feeling the full weight of her mother's suffering. “You are strong. You are a healer, dear child. We heal. We do not hurt. Please, release me from this pain.” 

Rowan held her mother’s hand at her cheek, and with tears in her eyes, she reached in the small satchel at her waist, and pulled out the vial of the deadly nightshade. Her family cultivated this plant, and used it for good, to ease the suffering of those who were dying painfully. They were healers, and despite being labeled as witches, they did not poison people. They helped, and they healed. 

_And now she was about to kill her mother,_ she thought ironically. She frowned down at the bottle, and her mother saw her reluctance.

“We are helpers, my sweet daughter. We do not use our gifts to hurt others. Only to heal.” Her mother’s hand fell away to the grass, her strength fading as her body painfully died. “Please…”

Rowan could no longer bear her suffering, and she knew what had to be done. With shaking hands, she uncapped the cork lid and carefully leaned over her mother, the vial held between trembling fingers. Her eyes were full of tears that dripped down her cheeks, her heart breaking into even smaller pieces as she pressed the small tube at her mother's lips. The dark liquid flowed in, and Rowan saw her mother’s throat constrict as she did her best to swallow.

“I love you, mama. I am going to miss you so much. But I’m going to make it better. No more pain.” Crying softly, and summoning what courage she had left, Rowan poured a bit more, wanting to ensure her mother would pass quickly. She took in a deep breath, and Rowan saw her mother's shoulders relax into the grass.

With the formulation they had created, she knew from past use on other patients that it would not take long, maybe a matter of minutes before her mother passed into a deathly sleep. She watched as her dear mother’s eyes closed, and as she faded, a rage began festering deep inside the young girl, a cold, all-encompassing fury that urged her to destroy as she had been destroyed. As her family had been destroyed, so would she destroy in return. Her mother gasped, her body futilely fighting the poison, and then with one upward jerk of her torso, she was gone. Rowan watched, her breath held, for any sign that her beautiful mother was still with her, but intuitively, she knew she was gone.

In that moment of deafening silence, Rowan had never felt more alone.

She had never felt more abandoned, more scared of anything in her entire life. She corked the vial of poison, and tucked it back in her small bag, and then, unable to hold herself up any longer, collapsed on the grass next to her. Her sister was on the other side of her. Her father and brother remained inside the still-burning cabin. From somewhere nearby, she heard her small pony, Lily, neighing as she returned to the homestead. A few moments later and the horse was nudging at her knee, concerned with the goings-on. Rowan wiped her eyes, and looked over the treetops, her fury focused on the Lonely Mountain, it’s ominous peak rising out of the fog, and her once-soft heart began to harden. 

It was because of him that this had happened. It was his fault. This was all his fault.

His, and his alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SWEAR THIS WILL NOT BE 85 CHAPTERS LONG. 
> 
> YOU HAVE MY WORD ON THIS.
> 
> Questions, comments, constructive criticism is always welcome...
> 
> This will be a bit darker, as I test the dark-water Thorin ideas in my head. 
> 
> Thanks for reading :-)


	2. Chapter 2

Rowan buried her family that evening, laboring under the full-moon as she dug the four shallow graves. When she was finished, she sat amongst them, calling for a spell of peace and rest for all their souls – hers included, but she found it difficult to relax. She was in shock, her mind trying to process all that had happened in such a short period of time, and finding it hard to comprehend how everything could change...just like that. Her father and brother, she'd found inside the still-smoldering cabin, the stone floor all that remained of her family's home. Their charred remains, she'd had to roll them onto a blanket she'd had atop her pony, and individually, she'd pulled them from the smoking cabin and laid them next to her mother and sister to be buried. Even now, her stomach roiled with bile, the nausea causing her body to break out in a cold sweat. 

Before the small fire, and with just the remaining pony, Lily, she sat long into the night, her body weary and mind restless, her heart utterly broken at all she'd seen. 

Rowan’s family, the outcasts, had maintained a small residence on the edge of the watery city of Lake-Town, and had for many years. As long as she could remember, they had been known as the family of witches, the ones that no one spoke about openly, the family that was only called-upon when they were needed. They were not witches, though, not in the true sense of those dark beings. They did not cast spells and turn people in to animals, and curse other beings. They were long-lived, yes, and they had exceptional knowledge of the plants and animals, passed down through many generations of the women in the family that had come before. Rowan’s father learned everything he had from her mother, as did her older brother. The family lived amongst the trees and plants and animals, sharing the space with them.

And only the women of the family showed the ability of certain gifts.

While both Rowan and Laurin could feel what others felt, Rowan, much like her mother, could go a step farther and influence those she touched to feel what she wanted them to feel. An illusion, if you will, though she and her mother had only ever used it for good. She had helped many a soul pass from this earth, and on to the next life, with no knowledge of the pain they were truly feeling. She could touch her father and alleviate his bad mood, had once calmed an aggravated pony, and soothed a raven with a broken wing. She smiled wistfully, remembering how soundly her father had scolded her, when, as a young child, she'd been found cradling a great black wolf that had been shot by an errant arrow, how she'd cradled it's large head against her chest and calmed it as lay dying. Just by touch alone, she could soothe the most savage of beasts. 

Witches, the women of her family were called for many years, and truthfully, Rowan did not recognize the title for what it was as a child but could clearly see it for what it was now that she was older. It was laughable, really, that they were so feared, yet so revered behind closed doors and in secret. The help with sick children and crops and livestock was one thing - the rest of it was something entirely different. She would learn from working with her mother how men were all disgusting creatures with disgusting secrets. She grimaced at the memories. 

How many men had come wanting help with their virility? More times than not, these were married men, and their medicinal requests were not for the benefit of their spouse. How many women had come, in secret, to her mother requesting help with an unwanted pregnancy from a man that was likewise not her husband? Rowan was sheltered, as was her brother and sister, but she'd heard the conversations had in secret. It was eye-opening, and it was disgusting, truly. For all the talk and whispers about how horrible her family was, how dark and twisted they were assumed to be, Rowan had never seen her father hurt her mother, had never seen him raise a hand or his voice at her. She had never seen her mother show anything but love towards her father and her children. She had caught them many times dancing in the moonlight to music only they could hear, or holding each other close, whispering words of love and affection and adoration. Their children never lacked for hugs or encouragement, and in fact, it was quite the opposite of all they'd been accused of; Her family was full of love and laughter, and joy and happiness. They lived in solitude, forced to reside as outliers on the edge of the city by the uneasy and untrusting Master of Lake-Town. But her parents, they seemed to care not, as they lived there for many years, happy and prosperous, working when they needed to for the members of the community, and living off the land and nature. It was a nice life, a simple life, all things considered, and Rowan grew up a happy child, far removed from the war and savagery that accompanied the other folks. Whatever her family was, they were not near as bad as men and elves and dwarves, least not from what she'd heard and seen with her own ears and eyes. 

Her family had survived the first attack on Erebor. Rowan was her mother and father’s only daughter at the time, and barely 8 years old then. Her brother was a little older, at 10 years of age, and her sister had not yet been born. The survivors had rebuilt their city on the lake, though it was nothing like the previous, as it lay in the shadow of the mountain, and like all things touched by a dragon, it was sick. However, it was the beginning of a new life for the survivors. The Master of Lake-Town was a horrid man, an unjust man according to her father, but Rowan's family was removed enough to not have to deal with him more than was absolutely necessary. Another reason to be so grateful for her parents, and their choice to remain outside of the city on the lake. Lake-Town was growing, slowly, but it was growing. None had chosen to try and rebuild Dale; that city was too ruined, and it lay entirely too close to that mountain. The broken rubble still sat before the doors of Erebor, a testament –_ or warning_ – of what lay inside. 

And so they lived in relative peace for a good long while, with no rumblings from the mountain, and life went on the way it always had, despite the loss of lives and homes. Families came and went, and Rowan's family remained, living in the shadows as they always did. 

The quiet only lasted until the dwarves of Erebor returned to reclaim their mountain home, and reawakened that beast that unleashed fire and death on all for the second time. Rowan's father had come back from Lake-Town with news that Thorin Oakenshield had returned, that the dwarves had come to reclaim their homeland. Her father had assisted a she-elf by the name of Tauriel with tending to the king’s young nephew, a dark-haired archer who'd been struck by a black-tipped arrow. However, once the bloodshed with the orcs began again, her father had decided that he’d done all that he could, and had fled Lake-Town and returned back home to his family. He refused to let Rowan's mother go and help the people on the city. _"Wait until the_ _danger had passed,"_ her father had advised.

And so they waited it out, there, in their small secluded cabin in the woods, removed from it all. They did not meddle in the lives of dwarves, elves, or men, nor did they have any place in any war that would be waged. Her father and mother didn't speak much of Thorin Oakenshield, and Rowan was too afraid to ask. 

Rowan's lips pressed, hard, and she tasted blood from the spot on her lip where she'd bitten herself. This time, it mixed with salty tears as the memories continued flowing. Rumblings had come from the mountain soon after the company of Thorin Oakenshield had arrived, and though she had been sheltered from most things in the world, she knew that those rumblings were the dragon awakening. And the beast was angry. Very, very angry at being disturbed after so very long. 

This was all his fault, his and those other dwarves, for bringing this nightmare back again. 

Rowan closed her eyes at the memories. So much had happened in the past few hours. So much about her life was changed, never to be undone, and she had no idea what to do now. In less than 24 hours, her life had been completely upended. She had only gone out the day prior to gather berries for a pie, along with various herbs and leaves, when she heard the noise from Lake-Town. Her mother was tending her father and brother, who had both fallen sick with the flu. Not wanting to be burdened with watching over her sibling, she had declined allowing her sister to tag along as she’d wanted to. Now, Rowan was wracked with guilt; Had her little sister been allowed to come, Laurin would still be alive. Rowan pressed her balled up fist at her mouth to quiet the choking sobs that wanted to escape. Going out that day was a decision she would come to regret for the rest of her life, for she wished every moment that she had perished with them, that she had been taken from this world with them, instead of left here, alone. 

She rubbed her cheek at her shoulder to wipe away the wetness. Now she was on her own, and she had to endure. She had to accept it; She had no choice. She stared into the fire, watching as the flames danced, and eventually she fell into a restless sleep, full of nightmares that called to her, voices that begged her to save them, and screams of those that just wanted to die. 

When she opened her eyes the next morning, she first saw the burned down fire, nothing more than embers. The cabin was still smoldering, tendrils of smoke rising up in the early morning as they reached for the sky. Lily was peacefully munching grass a few feet away. The graves remained, and with them, she could no longer pretend it was a terrible nightmare. A noise drew her attention, and she turned, seeing the ravens perched on the branches of a small tree that remained. _Three black and one white_ \-- Rowan swallowed down the lump in her throat. Her family come to let her know they’d made it through to the other side. The white remained after the others flew away, and Rowan knew it was her mother. The white raven, the purest of them all. Her mother had told her the story of how the raven was at first white, and only became black once she had been burned by the actions of humans. She knew her mother was trying to send her a message, trying to remind her of her purpose, but she cared not for reasoning. She stubbornly turned away, her angry, tearful eyes focused again on that damned mountain, and when she finally looked back, the raven was gone, the tree branch bare as before.

* * *

It was that week that Rowan would find a dark-haired man washed up along the edge of the River Running. She frowned, realizing it was probably a dead body from the battle. The river was full of carnage, and would probably be so for the near future. She approached his form with caution, knowing that even though the battle had quieted down, and the dragon slain, there was still orcs running about, and one could not be too cautious. Upon reaching the figure, she saw that he was a man, large and stout, and clothed in a heavy chain-mail tunic. His feet were clad in heavy leather and fur boots. Rowan frowned at his apparel - he was lucky he didn’t drown with those thick boots on his feet pulling him straight to the bottom. Still strapped to his back was his bow, though his quiver of arrows was missing. For a moment, she had the urge to turn away, knowing that this man was somehow involved in the battle, and she had no idea whether he was a good guy or a bad guy, and if there even was such a thing anymore. He was not an orc, but was he a dwarf or a man? She had no idea, as she'd never seen a dwarf before. The thought ran through her mind to let him suffer whatever fate would befall him, to let the natural way of war take its course, but in the same breath she knew she could not. She’d not be able to sleep that night knowing that she hadn’t at least tried to help. It was not who she was at her core. 

And besides, being alone in the wilderness was terrifying for her, but she dared not go into the city where the survivors were for fear of orcs and other foul creatures. 

She leaned down, cautiously, and poked at his arm with the toe of her boot. The man didn’t move, save a brief twitch of his eyelids and the slightest parting of his lips. Rowan moved in closer. She could see that he was breathing, labored though it was, and knew she needed to turn him over to assess for wounds now that she’d seen he was alive. 

“Can you hear me?” she calmly asked the man. 

No answer came. She looked around, ensuring they were safe, and reached down to drag him up and out of the water. With the first tug, she fell flat on her bottom - He was so heavy, and nothing but dead weight! Digging her heels in the soft ground of the river bank, she was finally able to get enough leverage, and managed to pull him clear of the water and rolled him onto his back. Her eyes raked over his handsome face. She was entirely sheltered, and had not much dealings with men, but she was not naive enough to deny how attractive this man could be considered. He was young, probably about her age, with dark, wavy hair that fell around his shoulders. His lips were full, as were his cheeks, on which his impossibly thick eyelashes now lay. Dark brows topped his eyes, the edges etched with crows feet, indicating that he laughed a lot. He didn’t quite have a beard covering his cheeks. She pushed some hair off his forehead to get a better look, and smiled to herself. He looked like a teenager, what with his babyface and soft hair, though his armor indicated he was a man. She assumed he was a man, given that she believed all dwarves were short, hairy beasts. This man was neither. 

Knowing she couldn’t leave him here now that he was alive, she did the best she could with her small pony and a makeshift cot and dragged him back to the small shack she was occupying for the time being. She was hidden in the forests, away from the battle, and butted up to the river on the other side. Once there, she kept him on the small cot on the ground, though he was situated near the fire and covered. She kept him restrained for her own safety - his hands were tied at the sides of the cot, and his feet tied at the bottom. She had treated the wounds that she could see, and had done her best to keep his fever at bay, and yet he still did not wake up. Days passed, and still Rowan kept watch over this man, tending him as best as she could as he slept. 

Little did she know how saving this man would impact her life, for if she did, she may have not made any effort at all…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here I am, taking lots of liberties with the movie and book. 
> 
> Rowan is much older than she appears, that we now know. I don't think she's like a witch-witch, casting spells and all that. She just has some unique abilities. And she lives for a longer period of time. It's Middle Earth, so anything goes, you know? 
> 
> But who on earth did she find???
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!
> 
> xoxoxoxoxo ~ Crazytxgradstudent


	3. Chapter 3

It was three days that the stranger had been at Rowan’s when the door to her small home was pulled open in the dead of night. She jumped from her small bed, trying to be quiet and desperately grabbed for anything that could be used as a weapon. Luckily, her small dagger was within reach. Just as she tucked the knife away, a large, dark figure eclipsed the light in her small one-bedroom shack. 

“Do not move, witch,” came the deadly command. Rowan swallowed, and pressed back against the far wall, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched the man search her home. He stopped near the injured man on the cot. 

“He is here!” The figure called to someone outside, before turning back to her. He stepped closer, and as he came into the light, Rowan saw that he was a great muscular man, and like the injured one, this one was also clad in armor, though he had a pair of battle-axes strapped across his back. In his hand, he held a sword, it's tip pointed at her. His head was bald save for the hair that rested at the base of his skull, and Rowan could just barely make out tattoos on his scalp. He had a long beard, and a thick mustache, and she saw the warrior beads braided within. Her brow darkened, and disgusted, her chin lowered in recognition. Angry, her eyes darted to the man that slept on her cot, and she saw him for what he truly was. 

_Dwarves._

Another figure joined them, this one only marginally smaller than the first man, though not by much. He was just as dark, and just as thickly muscled, though he seemed leaner, and somehow more refined. His hair was also dark, like the man on the cot, but fell down about his shoulders in wild waves. The occasional warrior bead was laced throughout his hair, and his beard was somewhat fuller than the injured man, though less bushy than the dwarf with the axes. He wore a thick, fur-lined vest buttoned-up over his heavy tunic. His top cinched at the waist with a large buckle, and he wore the same bulky, leathery boots as the others. Rowan swallowed, seeing that this one also carried a sword in his hand. There was something about this man, this dwarf, that caused Rowan's spine to stiffen. He seemed _important_ somehow, and moved with an air of quiet authority that brooked attention. He stepped closer, his glittering eyes finding Rowan in the corner. 

“What did you do to my nephew?” The man’s deep baritone filled the small room. He stepped closer to the injured man on the cot and knelt down at his side. The other man still kept his sword pointed in Rowan’s direction. 

“Kili! Can you hear me?” The kneeling man shook the arm of the injured man on the cot, who Rowan now knew was Kili. Her stomach turned, realizing she’d not only saved, but housed a dwarf in her home for the past few days! As if sensing her thoughts, the man looked up at her, and Rowan caught a flash of angry, vividly blue eyes. He stood and walked towards her. 

“What did you do to my nephew?” He repeated. He had stopped, mere inches away from her, and Rowan shrank back against the wall. His blade gleamed in the sliver of moonlight that made its way through the one window. 

“Thorin! There’s no time for this, we must get him back to Erebor!” The other dwarf hissed. At hearing those words, Rowan’s eyes widened in shock, and she looked again at the other dwarf. The important dwarf. Her eyes narrowed on him, suspiciously. 

"You’re Thorin? Thorin Oakenshield?” Her fingers inched towards the hidden blade under her sleeping shift. The man did not answer, the only indication he’d heard and acknowledged her was a slight tilt of his chin in her general direction. 

“You do not address him so informally, witch!” The other man spat at her. Rowan gave a smirk as her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her small dagger. 

“I’ve heard tales of Thorin Oakenshield, the one who would reclaim the mountain, but never did I think I’d see him in the flesh,” Rowan murmured as she slyly spread her feet in preparation. 

“Who are you?” Thorin asked her. “And how came you by my nephew, witch?” He clutched his weapon, menacingly. “What have you done to him?” 

Without answering him, and without warning, Rowan launched herself at the dwarf king, her days of heartache and sadness, pent-up rage, and fury at losing her family, all coming out in a wave of adrenaline as she rushed him. Thorin just only managed to block her before she buried her small dagger in his throat, and instead, she drove the small blade deep into his shoulder. The dwarf howled and grabbed her about her throat as he lifted her off the ground. Rowan clutched at his forearms, clawing at him, and drawing blood as she struggled to escape the vice-grip around her neck. As her vision tunneled, she forced her thoughts into his head, trying to use her ability to convince him to release her, but to her surprise and ultimate horror, it seemed that he was somehow unaffected by her. His grip only tightened about her neck, cutting off her air and she began to black out. 

She began to panic, realizing she was no match for him, and her legs flailed about as she kicked futilely at him. 

“Dwalin! Get this bitch off me!” Thorin roared, his flashing blue eyes staring into Rowan’s as he held her aloft with one hand at her throat. 

A few moments later, and Rowan was ripped from Thorin’s grasp, and harshly thrown at the far wall as if she were nothing more than a rag doll. The breath left her body with the impact, and her vision spun. She rolled, clutching her head in her hands, trying to regain her senses and catch her breath, when she was harshly hauled up again. This time it was by her hair, and she tried to scream, but the strong hand at her throat took away her breath, and with it her voice. The angry eyes of Thorin Oakenshield bore into hers. 

“I should kill you now, witch, but I do not know what you’ve done to my nephew.” His grip on her hair tightened as he jerked her head back at a terribly awkward angle. Despite her best efforts, tears leaked from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. From her peripheral, she could see the wound on his shoulder as it oozed bright red blood, and now it was Thorin’s turn to give an evil smirk. 

“Save your tears.” His grip tightened around her throat. “For if my nephew fails to wake from whatever you’ve done to him, you will do more than cry before I am through with you.” He lowered her, releasing her to the ground and back to her feet, and just when she thought she’d have a reprieve, his fist landed at her temple, and all went black. 

* * *

"Well, what shall we do with the girl?" Dwalin asked. He was stood over her sleeping form, his lips twisted in disgust.

Thorin made sure his nephew was secure in the wagon, and walked back over to his friend, and both stared down at her. She was tied up, her hands behind her back, and that rope tied to her feet. She was dressed only in her sleeping gown, and had no shoes on her feet. Thorin could not tell what she was, human, or what, though she appeared not to be an elf, and she was certainly no dwarf that he knew. She was young, and not hairy at all. She was short of stature, her frame slight and fragile looking, and he could not fathom why she was out here alone, amongst the wilderness. She had to be a witch; there was no other explanation, as women alone did not live in these areas and hope to survive unless they were under some dark enchantment. 

"She goes with us." He wiped his hands off, trying to remove some of the blood from his fingers. He grimaced when he lightly touched the wound at his collarbone. _The bitch had_ _nearly killed him_, he thought with disgust. Another session of Oin's rough-handed stitching was coming up, and that only added to his hatred of this woman that lay unconscious at their feet. He still hadn’t figured out why she’d attacked him the way she had. 

"Back to Erebor?" Dwalin huffed. "Do you think that wise, Thorin, to bring her into to our home?" 

"Kili still sleeps, Dwalin! This witch has the answers. She's obviously placed him under some dark spell, and I will not let let her live - _or die_ \- until he wakes." Discussion over, Thorin walked back over to his horse and readied his saddle. He made sure the lead from his horse was tied securely to her pony, as he would be taking it back to Erebor as well. Dwalin reluctantly followed, though he kept one eye on the witch. 

"Tie her to her pony. When we get back, take her to the dungeons. And take care that you do not touch her, unless you have gloves on." Thorin advised, his focus back on securing his saddle and bags before they began the long journey back to Erebor. 

Dwalin nodded, mulling over Thorin's warning. His thoughts turned back to when the girl had pressed her hand to his forearm, right before he'd thrown her at the wall. Some strange feeling came over him, and for a brief moment, he could see himself letting her go, just as if it were actually happening. He could plain as day see her remove herself from his grip, and as if he were out of his own body and hovering above, he watched as he sat down on the floor and let her walk right out of the damn house.It was unnerving, what she had done to his mind in just a few seconds. And why had she affected him that way, and not Thorin?   
  
_She_ _should not come back to Erebor,_ he thought to himself, his unease heavy in his gut. 

But in the end, he would swallow down his hesitance, knowing that Thorin would not change his mind once it had been made up. He readied his horse as well, and then turned back to the girl. Carefully, and without touching her skin, he draped a blanket over her, and hoisted her up and onto the back of her pony. He tied her body to the saddle, ensuring that she wouldn't fall off while they traveled back. Once done, he stepped back to survey his work. From a safe distance. 

He wanted no part of this girl, not with her sorcery and mind-altering touch and propensity for stabbing people. 

Dwalin was still stood there, musing, when Thorin mounted his horse. The both of them were still unsure of what had happened, and Dwalin could only chalk it up to her being a witch, with some kind of sway over those she touched. He knew Thorin didn't quite believe him when he’d tried to explain what had happened -- **who would, mind you?** \-- but it didn't change what he'd felt and seen in his head when he'd touched her_._

_ And he would not be doing that again,_ he vowed to himself. No matter what Thorin or anybody else said. 

"Come, Dwalin! Let's go before it gets darker." Thorin called over his shoulder, and Dwalin called back in agreement.

Minutes later, they were back on their trail, with Thorin leading the way with the witch’s pony tied to his horse, and the wagon carrying Kili in the middle. Dwalin would bring up the rear, giving him a clear view of things. 

His eyes never left the girl on the white pony as it trailed behind Thorin, and his axe never left his hand. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the tags...

It was day two of her imprisonment. 

Rowan stared up at the small window on the door in her cell, hopelessly, her stomach screaming with raw hunger and throat parched with thirst. She’d been here, locked away deep in Erebor, with nothing but the shift she was wearing that night they’d come to take their nephew. She'd finally been able to deduce at least in part what was going on and why she'd been taken: The king, Thorin Oakenshield, somehow assumed she was responsible for his nephew, Kili not waking up, and no amount of explanation from Rowan would sway him. Probably didn't help that she'd tried to slit his throat either, but Thorin had yet to bring that up. No, he seemed solely focused on why Kili wasn't waking up. After the first day of being interrogated, and trying to answer his questions, but not getting anywhere, she simply stopped trying. He wouldn’t believe her, no matter what she said, and the more she talked, the angrier he got. She reached a hand up and touched at her busted lip, wincing.

She’d never been hit before.

She'd never had someone intentionally inflict injury on her, to purposely try and wound her, and she didn’t know how to feel about it. Her eye felt swollen, and she assumed it was puffed with a bruise from when he’d hit her the first time against her head. The other aches and scrapes had come from rough handling and carelessly- thrown slaps. She dropped her hand, joining it with her other, and stared down at them both as they rested on her thighs and sighed. She clenched and unclenched her fists, staring at her fingers and her hands, useless as they were now. 

Why hadn’t her touch worked on the king? Why was he alone unaffected? The only one it seemed, as she’d been able to quiet Kili and ease him while he slept in her home. Dwalin, the great warrior, had learned soon enough once she touched her bare skin to his, that he was no match for her, and he had almost released her as soon as she placed her hand at his forearm. She’d felt him stutter, had seen his mind twisting as her thoughts intertwined with his, and she had almost gotten him to release her. Almost. Dwalin was still stunned, and had warned everyone else to not touch the witch, lest they also become caught in her spell. All save for the king. 

It was only Thorin that could touch her thus far and not be affected. And she assumed it was why he was the one carrying out her punishment. That first day he’d imprisoned her, he’d paced in front of her, musing out loud in some weird, guttural language that she had never heard. Dwalin stood in the back of the room, his sword at the ready. There was another dwarf also, a shorter, whiter one, with kindly eyes, but he had yet to speak to Rowan. She got the sense that he was uncomfortable with the whole business, and thus maintained his gaze on the floor at his feet. 

She startled when the door was wrenched open, and in came Thorin again.

She swallowed the hard lump in her throat. This time, he was alone. 

She scooted back against the wall, curling in on herself, praying that he wouldn’t touch her again, for she knew she couldn’t bear anymore. She was on the verge of mental and physical breakdown, and her eyes were already welling with tears at what she instinctively knew was coming. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing muscular forearms, his shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing glimpses of a broad chest dusted with hair and a tattoo she couldn't make out. She swallowed when she breathed in his scent, all male dominance and authority, and tinged with a hint of alcohol. He was drinking again. And he looked dangerous. Very, very dangerous. 

“It’s been a few hours. Have you decided to confess?” Thorin stopped before her, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at her. “Or shall we continue in this vein?”

“I didn’t do anything to him.” Rowan’s voice was barely above a whisper. She couldn’t get it any louder, no matter how she tried, and she didn’t know how to make him believe her, but oh how she wished he would. 

“You tried to kill me, remember? You would have cut my throat and had me bleed out in your damn house. You would have killed my nephew. You had no pity on me, witch, when you aimed for my throat.” He knelt before her, a smirk on his handsome face as he watched her tuck her feet and try to make herself smaller. “And rest assured, you will receive none from me.” He grasped her chin between heavy fingers, and roughly forced her eyes up to his. 

“Your touch, it does not sway me,” his deep voice washed over her in an almost-soothing way. One thick finger lightly caressed her cheek, and Rowan felt her stomach clench with some unknown feeling, a cross between unease and something she couldn't quite put her finger on. “Yet you can touch my strongest warrior, and have him do your bidding. What did you do to my nephew?” His grip tightened, further darkening the already-bruised skin of her cheek and jaw. 

“I didn’t do anything to him,” Rowan closed her eyes in frustration. Tears rolled down her cheeks and landed on top of Thorin’s hand. “I found him, and I was taking care of him.” 

“Lies. Filthy lies!” Thorin spat as he released her. “You will leave me no choice but to kill you, woman!” 

“I have told you the truth, but you don't believe me. You do not scare me,” she whispered, mustering all her fake courage, for in fact, she was terrified. Knowing that Thorin was not affected by her, and therefore that she was defenseless against him, she had no recourse and was completely under his will. And he’d latched onto that quickly, taking advantage of her weakness as he’d slapped her repeatedly, or thrown her about, each time she’d given him what he deemed a wrong answer. 

While she had hoped he’d let her be, it had not been so. This interrogation would go on for hours, and each time he didn’t get what he wanted by way of explanation, she got hit again. She wondered if he was so relentless this time due to him coming alone, and having no audience. Her head was pounding, ears ringing from his heavy hand, and all she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep. In a moment of exhaustion coupled with sheer hopelessness, she dared close her eyes, and drop her head, only to have the dwarf grab her again. Her eyes jolted open and he came back into view, all rage and passion and fury as he towered over her. 

“What. Did. You. Do. To. My. Nephew?” Thorin growled, his fingers biting into the skin of her arm again. He jostled her, causing her head to bump at the wall and she cried out, but he cared not. 

It was all she could do to hold her bloodied face up to him, to tilt her chin in clear defiance of this bastard, the great king under the mountain. Thorin glared down at her, enraged, as he waited for an answer that would not come. The next blow came swiftly, just as hard as the one before it, the force spinning her head around, and for a moment, she had the horrifying feeling that her neck would snap from the weight of his heavy palm. Once the stars had cleared, she faced him again, giving him the best, bloodiest smile she could manage. She could taste the blood in-between her teeth, could feel the reopened cut inside her mouth as it stung. She could see the disgust in his icy blue eyes, and somehow it only encouraged her smile grow. She hated dwarfs, all of them, but this one –_this particular dwarf_—she hated above all others.

And, should she ever get free again, she was going to tear him apart with her bare hands.

Her hysterical grin grew, and she hoped he could see that truth in her eyes, reflected back at him. Growing angrier, he harshly grabbed her chin between two thick fingers, turning her one way, and then the next as he inspected her face. Their eyes locked, a battle of wills, before he grunted out a curse in that same harsh foreign language, and pushed her away from him. Unable to use her hands as they were tied at her back, she fell over in a crumpled heap, and started laughing. She could only a manage a whisper, but knew his keen ears would hear her well:

“You can go to hell…” It didn’t matter any more what she said or did. He would believe what he wanted, and maybe, if she pushed him hard enough, he’d just be done with it and kill her. She wavered between laughing and crying, hiccupping and giggling, sounding like a woman gone completely mad. 

“You will break, witch. And trust me when I say we have only just begun.” With those final words, Thorin stood, and made to exit the room. Before he did, though, he turned back and pulled the small window covering down, killing any light that might have slipped through the small opening on the door. Rowan just managed to restrain her cry of unhappiness; she would not give him that satisfaction. She would never let him know that she was terrified of the dark, for he would surely make it worse on her, bastard that he was. The door slammed behind him, the sound of the lock clicking in place reminding her that she was still his captive. 

Now that she no longer had to put on a show, big, wet tears began to fall. She cried softly as she began to crawl to the far corner, and did her best to shove herself into the junction of the two walls, attempting to remain as small as possible. She began shivering, both from the cold and from lack of food and water, her body hovering on the brink of collapse. From somewhere in the dark, she could hear small feet – rats or roaches or some other scurrying nightmare - she knew not, and she dared not close her eyes, dared not turn away and be taken unawares again. If she was going to be attacked, she wanted to see it happen with her eyes wide open this time. 

* * *

Outside the small cell, Thorin paced, back and forth, warring with himself whether he should go back in and apologize to her… or go back in and finish killing her. Damn that woman! If she would but talk, this could all be over! He resumed pacing, clenching and unclenching his fists as she fought the urge to go back and try again. Kili must wake up. He had to wake up. Thorin dropped his head at the wall, thumping his forehead as he tried to get the rampant fears to stop flowing so freely and clouding his thoughts. He could not lose Kili. He could not lose him, could not lose his only remaining family member. 

He began pounding at the wall with his fist, hitting it harder and harder as he strove to alleviate some of his frustration and confusion. 

He settled with slamming his fist into the wall, over and over again, and was only satisfied when he had completely busted his knuckles wide open. The stone wall would not yield to him. The pain was a welcome relief, a distraction from the pain in his heart, and the overwhelming anxiety that was wracking his brain. Blood dripped down from his wounded hand, landing softly on his boots and staining the fabric, but he cared not. Spent, he leaned against the stone wall, pressing his forehead to the cool stone in an effort to cool down. His chest was heaving, his heart palpitating wildly, but finally, after a few moments, he felt composed enough to make his way back up the stairs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About to get darker. Please don't read if you don't wanna see. I'm testing my ability to drag our dwarf deep into his madness that I think he is capable of. The means justify the end with Thorin, I think.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark dark dark....

**Day three...**

Rowan jerked awake when the door was wrenched open. Her neck ached from how she'd been sleeping upright, and her arms were numb, tingling as they were still tied behind her back. She blinked, her eyes raw and gritty as she tried to see in the darkness, but one eye was definitely swollen almost nearly shut, and that made it that much harder to focus. A great shadow eclipsed the doorway, and she knew this time, at least, that it was not the king. She was hauled to her feet by the shackles at her wrist, and as her good eye focused, she realized it was the tattooed dwarf, the one that carried the battle axes at his back. Dwalin, she remembered he was called. And in different ways, he was just as scary as Thorin. 

"If you try and touch me, witch, I'll kill you myself." Dwalin warned her with a heated stare. "I'll lead you by the chain." 

“Where are you taking me?” Rowan managed to croak out, but regretted it, as she was immediately struck in the face by a heavy, gloved palm. Her lip was busted open wide again, and her vision swam with stars. Her head fell back, and she tumbled, but the dwarf did not answer her, nor did he allow her to fall. He jerked on the chain that was attached to the manacles that bound her hands together, and dragged her up the stairs, to the ramparts. She saw the king there, his back to her and the other dwarf. When he heard them approaching, he turned to her, his blue eyes flashing under thick brows. He was clad only in a simple blue tunic, worn loosely over his pants, his coat gone. How was he not freezing up here, she idly wondered. Her teeth were already chattering with cold. 

“Are you afraid of heights?” The king asked, his tone dripping with false curiosity. She knew he didn't care if she was afraid or not. 

Dwalin dragged Rowan closer to the edge of an area of the battlements that was still unrepaired, and pressed her over it until her entire torso was hanging from it. She stared down at the ground, so far, far away, and swallowed. She was scared, yes, but she did not fear death, no matter how it came, for she was already dead in all but body. She didn’t even try and touch Dwalin to see if her touch would still work on him; She was beyond caring, and wished that they would just end her life here and now. She huffed out a miserable laugh. 

“Fuck you.” Rowan summoned the worst insult she’d ever heard in her life, spitting the words at the king. Thorin grabbed her from Dwalin and flung her down on the ground before him. Her knees scraped against the rough surface, the icy surface ripping and tearing at her bruised and broken flesh. Blood began to trickle down her knees and over her bare feet. 

“Tell me what you have done with my nephew, and I will release you.” Thorin peered down his regal nose at her, his arms crossed over his chest. “Tis but a simple thing, witch, and I will let you go.” 

“I have done nothing to your nephew.” Rowan kicked at him, but the king easily stepped out of her reach. Angered at her answer, Thorin used his boot to kick her backwards, and when she was flat on her back, he placed his heavy sole on her chest. He pressed, forcing the air from her lungs. She felt like her ribs were going to collapse at any moment, and she prayed that it would be quick. 

“You bewitched him. Took him under some dark spell, and now he slumbers endlessly.” He pressed his boot harder into her sternum. “Tell me what you have done, and I will free you from this wretched existence.” 

Rowan frowned at that news. Kili still slept. Why was he not awake yet? Just as quickly as her concern came, it was gone as she remembered that the man she saved was not only a dwarf, but the nephew of this bastard above her. Her jaw hardened. 

“Fuck. You.” She spat again, mustering all the fury she could manage in those two words.

Thorin jerked back, almost as if he’d been physically slapped by her. He blinked a few times, and then seemed to regain his bearing as he reached down and hauled Rowan to her feet. Rowan’s stomach roiled when she caught the strong stench of too-much alcohol emanating from Thorin’s body. Was he always drunk? She didn’t have time to ponder. Without waiting for the other dwarf, Thorin grabbed a fistful of her hair and roughly dragged her back down the stairs. She could hardly keep up, and she fell more than once, yet Thorin paid no mind. He dragged her along the cold, stone stairs and down the hall, and she felt tears well as bits of hair were pulled from her scalp, and skin was continuously ripped from her elbows and knees. He flung her inside her cell, and then walked in behind her, pulling the door shut, and locking it. Rowan crawled over to the far wall, and as usual, attempted to make herself as small as possible. It was no use, though, because Thorin dragged her out by her feet and hauled her to a standing position. Again, the scent of old alcohol on his breath washed over her, turning her stomach inside-out with nausea. He unsheathed a knife and wordlessly cut her shift off, baring her naked body to his furious gaze. Rowan did her best to lift her chin, and show him she was unaffected, but inside, she was dying with fear, and outwardly, she began shaking as she'd never shook before. This, this last thing, was what she feared the most, but she could not let him see that. She refused to let him see that he could break her, no matter what it cost her. 

Thorin’s gaze traveled over her body, his jaw tense. 

“Do what you will, you bastard.” Rowan’s voice trembled, despite her bravado. Thorin heard it, smirking as he pulled his belt off. The sound was nerve-wracking, the slide of leather as it fell from around his waist. Rowan closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. Her mother had warned her of what evil men sometimes did to women, had explained that it was partly the reason Rowan and her sister had not been allowed to go into Lake-Town by themselves. Naively, Rowan had never thought this would happen to her. 

“If you think I would touch your filthy flesh, you are mistaken, witch.” Thorin tilted his head and stepped back, stretching the belt between his hands, and huffed out a humorless laugh. “I’d give you over to a pack of orcs, let them destroy you from the inside out before I’d even glance your way.” 

The first blow came without warning, the leather strap of the belt burning against the skin of her left upper-arm and stinging the skin over her breast. Under this assault, Rowan couldn’t help but kneel at his feet, the pain white-hot and searing as it wracked her body and forced her into a fetal position. Thorin took that as invitation to continue, landing strike after strike on her back and thighs, tearing at her already fragile skin, flaying her open when his buckle landed just right. Rowan couldn’t hold back her tears, and instead let them fall freely, though she did not ask him to stop. 

On the contrary, Rowan hoped that he would continue. That eventually one of his blows would kill her. If she no longer had the opportunity to kill him – and it looked as if she would never have it – then he could at least put her out of her misery. She would find him in this life or the next.

Thorin continued, fueled by rage and heartache and alcohol, and entirely not enough sense. Strike after strike, until finally, he could physically swing his belt no more. At some point, the girl had passed out, whether from the pain, or from the lack of food and water, Thorin knew not. He only noticed when she failed to jerk after each strike. Seeing that she was no longer feeling anything, he ceased hitting her. His arms fell limply at his side, his body weary from the effort as he dragged himself outside the cell and locked it behind him. He was sweaty, his hands shaking, his head pounding as he knelt down and pressed his forehead to the cool stone wall. The same spot that bore his blood from yesterday. At seeing the stain on the floor below him, his stomach twisted with unease, a bitterness rising in his throat at his actions that he somehow knew were wrong. Something deep inside him had tipped over the edge, and he knew he’d crossed some kind of line, though his fuzzy brain would not cooperate enough with him to figure out which. All he knew was that he had to do what must be done to save Kili. And it seemed no one could touch this girl, so it had to be him. 

Waiting in the shadows, Balin cautiously approached his king. 

“What are you doing, laddie?” Balin asked, his old eyes sad. “This is not you, Thorin. To behave such a way. You cannot keep beating that girl.” 

“I will do what I must to save my nephew.” Thorin choked on the last word, his head still bowed low and shoulders hunched in despair.

"Thorin-" Balin tried again, but the king would not have it. He held up one finger, pointed in the older dwarf's direction, and slowly shook his head, and Balin backed down.

After taking in a deep breath, Thorin pulled himself up to his full-height, and angrily shoved the belt into a pocket, not bothering to put it back on. Now that his initial rage had passed, he had some small bit of clarity. The alcohol was wearing off, and his eyes weren't so fuzzy anymore. He still felt sick at his stomach, though, and remained completely disgusted in his soul. Though he knew what he was doing had to be done, it didn’t change the ill-feeling it produced every time he had to punish her. It never failed: when she had pushed him to that point, when he was in a full-blown rage and she continued to defy him, he almost took pleasure in hurting her. In seeing her fall at his feet, her blood and tears mixing, he recognized some disgusting part of himself that enjoyed it, took pleasure in seeing her yield to him. Submitting to his authority. But when it was over, when the adrenaline wore off, he hated himself. And that made him hate her more for pushing him into that damned corner and forcing his hand. He had never in all his years hit a woman like this, and it was causing so many different emotions deep within, and he feared that he would lose his sanity before they came to a resolution. So many confusing emotions, and deep down, he knew he wasn't behaving well and just, but he also knew he didn't care. He had lost too much to care about the feelings of some girl. His mouth twisted up with derision as he began imagining her doing something to his nephew, some fell deed...

“You are destroying yourself, just as you are destroying her.” Balin challenged, seeing the darkness cloud Thorin's countenance. “This is not the king I know, Thorin. Not the dwarf I know." Balin stepped closer, daring to come into Thorin's space. "You are not thinking straight! There has to be another way.” He hesitantly placed a hand at his king’s shoulder, and waited. Thorin shrugged it off.

“There is no other choice, Balin. Not for me. The girl is the key to Kili waking up. If she refuses to talk, I will beat it out of her. Or she will die - I do not care.” 

Balin watched as the king stiffly walked down the hall, his great shoulders weighed upon heavily by not only the ruling of this forsaken kingdom, but also the concern of his nephew’s health. And this thing with the girl, it wasn't as easy on Thorin as he pretended it to be. Balin knew Thorin, knew him as a man and as a king, but more importantly as a friend. Balin understood Thorin's need to save his nephew, the only member of his family that still remained, but he he was not so sure he understood Thorin's methodology insofar as getting answers. And he was not entirely sure that Thorin wasn't still suffering from that damnable sickness that he'd only just barely escaped. The girl hadn't said a word other than to profess her innocence, and Balin was inclined to believe her. Kili was alive when they'd found him, surely, if she wanted to kill him, she'd have already done it! 

The old dwarf sighed greatly. He walked a ways off, ensuring that Thorin was indeed gone, before he went back to the cell. Thorin could turn his back on this girl, but Balin knew in his heart that he could not. He quietly opened the cell door, and his old heart clenched in his chest at what he saw. The girl was there, still laying in a heap, naked as the day she was born, curled in on herself. Balin grimaced at seeing her so destroyed, but he knew not what to do. He, like the others, was forbidden from coming here, but he could not turn away from such suffering. He would ask forgiveness later. 

He quietly grabbed a bucket from down the hall and offered her some water, but she would not lift her head, and for a moment, Balin feared she was dead. A timid hand at her shoulder and he felt her shallow breaths, and he knew that she was not. 

"I'll leave this for you, lassie." It was all he could offer, that and a ragged blanket. He knew Thorin wouldn't allow anything else, and above all, right or wrong, Thorin was the king. Not Balin. He gently draped the blanket over the girl's shoulder and stepped out of the room, making sure to lock it behind him. His eyes landed on the blood stain on the floor across from the cell door, and he sighed again. The bloody handprint on the wall above explained what had happened there. Two very broken people, both in their own individual prisons, and blood stains on both floors. 

With one last look at the cell door, he wiped a hand over his face, and headed upstairs, his only hope that his friend would come to his senses before he did something terrible. 


	6. Chapter 6

On the fourth day of Rowan’s imprisonment, Thorin struggled with going to her, or going to his nephew. He was tired of waiting, but he was more tired of her. She haunted his dreams, made him wake up in a cold sweat when he was finally able to doze off for some few minutes. He could see the whites of her eyes as he beat her, could almost hear her heartbeat pounding, and his nostrils filled with the sick smell of fear as she reeked of it.

**He hated her. **

At the corridor, he stopped, his eyes on the stairs. One set would take him up to Kili, the others would lead down to the witch. His jaw clenched tight, and fists even tighter, he finally decided on seeing his nephew first. Then he would interrogate the witch again. 

Thorin made his way down to the infirmary, his hope that there was some change with Kili. He found it hard to not let his thoughts continue to wander to the girl down below, though. He was so angry. He was annoyed that he was preoccupied with her, that he couldn't remove her from his thoughts as he could other things. He just wanted to be rid of her, in mind and proximity. He wanted with every fiber of his being to kill her, to choke the life from her frail body, but he knew that if he did, he might also lose his nephew for good. He stepped into the sick room, and his eyes landed on his nephew. The other dwarf that was attending Kili gave the king a solemn nod, and then stepped out of the room to give them some privacy. 

Thorin sat on the chair next to the bed, and carefully grabbed Kili’s hand. It was warm to touch, and the king smiled. That meant his nephew was alive, and not cold like Fili had been when they’d found him. His smile quickly faded at the memory of what had happened up on Ravenhill. 

Fili had been slaughtered by that bastard Azog, and thrown from an icy cliff as if he were nothing. Painfully, Thorin remembered the sickening thud his nephew’s body made when it hit the ground, the sound of ice and bone breaking together. He’d not had time to go to Fili just then, as the mountaintop was swarming with orcs. It was only when the battle was over that they’d been able to reclaim Fili’s broken body, and it now lay in the burial vault below, entombed for all of eternity. Back under the mountain where he belonged. 

When the battle was over, Kili had been nowhere to be found, and in fact, it was only due to the she-elf, Tauriel, that Thorin had any idea at all where he was. The ravens had eventually found his exact location with the witch. 

_“He fell, my lord,” Tauriel had cried softly. “Protecting me. He fell off the cliff and into the river below.” _

Thorin had seen red that day, and wanted to kill Tauriel for putting his nephew in danger, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, for he knew how Kili and Tauriel felt about each other. And despite his distaste for elf-kind, he knew that the she-elf would have fought to her death to save Kili, and that she was also suffering. Didn’t change Thorin’s annoyance with her, however, and she had been banned from entering Erebor for the foreseeable future. He wanted nothing to do with men or elves or wizards for as long as he lived. Bilbo was the only one allowed to remain, and he was welcome in the mountain for as long as he desired, though Thorin knew the hobbit wanted to go back to the Shire. And he couldn't blame the burglar. Erebor was hardly the place it had once been, and it would be a long time before it was fully restored. 

He sighed, dropping his forehead to rest on the bed beside his nephew. He was so damn tired. 

“I wish that you would wake, nephew. There is so much that I need to tell you. So much that I need help with.” Thorin fought back the tears stinging in his eyes. “We have reclaimed Erebor, and I need you to wake. Please.” 

Thorin thought that he must be dreaming, or that he was imagining things, when he felt his fingers being lightly squeezed in response. He jerked his head up, his eyes first going to his nephew’s face, and then down to their joined hands. He placed his other hand on top, cradling his nephew’s hand in both his, and squeezed in encouragement. 

“Kili! Wake up! I can feel you! Wake up!” Thorin stood, leaning over to better see Kili’s face. 

Kili’s eyelids fluttered, and Thorin’s face broke out into a relieved smile. The door opened wide, and Balin came in, just at the right moment. 

“He’s waking, Balin! Call for Oin! Do it now!” Thorin didn’t bother looking over his shoulder, his eyes intent on Kili. “Open your eyes! Kili! Open them!” 

After a few moments, Kili’s eyelids twitched once more, and then opened, revealing sleepy brown eyes. He squinted in the bright light of the room, and his eyes closed again. 

“Uncle…” his voice came out in a whisper. “Water…I need…water…”

Thorin quickly grabbed the small cup on the nearby table, and helped his nephew drink from it. Kili was able to manage a few sips before he fell back on the bed, exhausted. Thorin hovered over him, and Balin had just returned. 

“Oin will be up shortly. He’s tending to injuries below, but he’s aware that Kili is waking.” Balin stood at Thorin’s side, smiling down at the young dwarf who was now looking up at them. “How are you, laddie?” 

“Tired,” Kili managed. His eyelids had drifted shut again. 

“Do you need anything? Do you feel any pain?” Thorin asked him, not wanting him to slip back into sleep. “How do you feel?” 

“You were asleep for a long while, laddie.” Balin patted Kili’s thigh. “We are glad you are awake!” 

“Are you sure you’re not in pain? I called Oin.” The king turned to Balin, frustrated. “Where the hell is he? Kili takes priority!” 

“Uncle, please. I am fine. Just tired.” Kili gave a weak smile. His eyes opened again, and he turned his head to find his uncle’s gaze. “It is strange, but I remember dreaming. I had dreams. Dreams of a girl, a woman maybe.” The young dwarf closed his eyes again, a slight smile on his face. “She saved me, uncle. I know she did.”

“It was Tauriel,” Thorin frowned, pushing away uncomfortable thoughts as they began to intrude. 

“It was not Tauriel. I would know her red hair and brown eyes, uncle,” Kili disagreed. “This one, she is different. Darker hair, different eyes. Smaller. She was no elf.” He looked at his uncle again. “Who is she, do you know? I’d like to thank her.” 

Thorin felt his stomach turning again in that uncomfortable way. He stood up, wiping a hand over his face, and dragged it down his beard as he made his way to the window. He stood there, staring out at the softly falling rain, his fingers digging into the edge of the stone window sill. Balin looked after him. 

“Uncle?” Kili called to him, his voice a tiny bit stronger. 

“Tis nothing, Kili.” Thorin didn’t turn around. “You need to rest. We can talk of dreams later.” 

“But I know what I saw, and I don’t think it was a dream.” Kili tried to sit up, but Balin held him down with a hand at his shoulder. 

“Plenty of time, laddie. You need to rest.” The old dwarf gave a gentle smile. Kili frowned. 

“Don’t you think I’ve slept enough?” Kili grumbled petulantly. He lay back, staring up at the ceiling as another thought occurred to him. “Where is my brother? Is he injured too?” 

Balin’s hand fell away from the young dwarf’s shoulder, and Thorin’s spine stiffened. Kili waited in the silence until he could take it no more. 

“Balin, where is Fili? Uncle?” Kili’s voice had risen, his fear evident.

“He…fell…Kili.” Thorin bowed his head again, his shoulders hunched in grief. “He did not survive Ravenhill.” 

“Then that was not a dream, was it. I had hoped...” Kili whispered as tears filled his eyes. “I saw him fall. I saw him.” Thorin himself was crying, and Balin, his old eyes had also filled with tears. Sadness permeated the room as if it were a thick blanket weighing heavy on them all, chasing the fleeting happiness away. 

“No, ‘twas not a dream. I am…sorry,” Thorin brokenly apologized. He stared down at his hands, self-hatred washing over him as he struggled to find the words. “I should have known better than to take Ravenhill alone like that. We should have fallen back when we had a chance, and then Fili would have…he would have..we would have—” 

“Do not apologize, uncle. Fili died fighting for what he believed in. For our homeland.” Kili charged, his voice unwavering in his conviction. “Do not feel sorry for him, for he would not want that. He would not want our pity, nor our sadness.” 

Thorin could only shake his head, his voice escaping him as his grief reared its ugly head again and overwhelmed him. With a curt nod at Kili and Balin, he relieved himself from the room, and walked out into the empty corridor. Once there, he slid down the wall onto his haunches, his hands cradling his head as he sobbed. The relief at seeing Kili wake, the sadness at realizing Fili was indeed gone, and never to return. The girl down below, the copious amounts of alcohol he’d consumed, and lack of sleep. The dead that still littered the grounds below. The nightmare of the past few days, it was all too much. Thorin’s hands filled with hot tears, and his great shoulders shook in a quiet, broken grief. The door opened, and Balin stepped out. 

“You alright, laddie?” 

Thorin didn’t answer, only covered his face more fully to hide his shame at being caught in such a state. 

“Kili is well, Thorin. He’s going to be fine.” Balin looked down at his king. “I am worried about you.” 

“Don’t be.” 

“Well I am!” Balin retorted. “You’re not well. You’ve done nothing but drink yourself nearly to death. You don’t eat. You spend all your time in the Great Hall, surrounded by that damned gold! You are sick, Thorin!” 

“You think me like my grandfather, don’t you?” Thorin whispered. He cast a sullen look up at his advisor, accusing him. “You think I am mad, just like them.” 

“You’re not yourself!” was all Balin could offer.

“Do you think I was wrong in my handling of the witch?” Thorin stared ahead, his eyes cold, his jaw tense and lips pressed as he waited for the answer. 

“Do you want the truth?” Balin sighed. 

“I only want the truth, Balin.” 

“Then yes, I think you were wrong. You nearly killed her, Thorin.” Balin accused. “And for what? Because you thought she had something to do with Kili? When in fact, she was the one that probably saved him!” 

“How was I to know otherwise?” Thorin stubbornly argued. “How was I to know she wasn’t involved, Balin?” 

“You don’t know! Because you don’t ask! You never ask! You only react! Just like you didn’t know who to trust with the damned Arkenstone, yet you accused us all of lying to you. You did not trust us, Thorin! We, who are your kin and family! You tried to kill Bilbo! You were sick. Don’t you see?” Balin sighed. “And I’ll go so far as to say you are still sick now. It has not left you, the gold sickness. It has not.” 

Thorin shot to his feet, his fists clenched at his side. “Who are you to accuse me of anything, Balin? You don’t have the responsibility that I do, nor have you lost your family, as I have!” 

Balin’s mouth dropped open and he rocked back on his heels, his own anger rising to match Thorin’s. He pointed a finger at the king in warning. “You are sick, laddie. And because of that, I’ll let your careless words be. But you are not well. And how dare you claim I have not lost family on this venture? That I have not lost someone I love on this damned quest? How dare you make such a claim?” Balin’s voice broke, and Thorin knew he’d crossed the line. He wanted to apologize, but could not find the words to do so, and so he remained silent while the older dwarf continued. 

“Fili was as much my kin as he was yours. Do not pretend that you have lost more than we all have. We have all suffered.” Balin’s voice hitched on the fallen dwarf’s name. “Damn you, Thorin. Damn you.” 

Without another word, Blain stomped away, leaving Thorin to stand there in regret. He slid back down the wall, hunched again, and cupped his forehead. What the hell was wrong with him? Even he could see that he was erratic. He had brief moments of clarity where he could remember being Thorin Oakenshield, where he could remember being sane. Being good, and just, and fair. But they were far and few between now, his mind clouded with the _what-ifs_ and the _shoulds_: _What if this happened? And should he do this?_ He wished desperately for those days of old, when he could just be Thorin, when he didn’t have to be a king under the damn mountain. When he did't have this responsibility on his shoulders. When he didn’t have to be suspicious, or leery of anyone, including his kin. He was so damned tired of it all, and just wanted a moment of peace. 

Just one moment. 

* * *

Thorin leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched her. 

He didn’t know why he wound up here, in her cell, after leaving Kili's room. He had no idea it was happening until he found himself unlocking the door and stepping inside. He had been here for over an hour, just watching her sleep, a silent sentinel. Like a dark, disgusting demon, his eyes roved over her naked figure revealed by the scrap of blanket she had tried to cover herself with. She was slighter than he remembered, her body almost boyish in it’s leanness, and he wondered if it was because she was starved, or if it was her age, or if she was always so slim? Despite her thinness, he could make out full breasts, could see their tops over the edge of the blanket, and he couldn’t deny the stirring in his groin that the sight caused. She had dark hair, not quite black, and not quite brown, somewhere in the middle. He didn’t remember the color of her eyes, though, hard as he tried. 

It was the bruises though, the bruises that he could see on her face and arms and legs –_and those that he couldn’t see, but knew were present_ – that turned his stomach again. The cuts and lacerations caused by his belt. He was responsible for those. The dark bruise on her cheek, and the swollen skin around her eye. Even the blow Dwalin had reluctantly dealt her was indirectly Thorin's fault. Its was his command, his orders that had been responsible for them all. It was his hands that had hurt her, and he didn’t quite know how to justify it at the moment, especially now that Kili had woken up and spoken about her in his dreams. 

He only spoke when he saw her stirring, and the way she moved so gingerly was not lost on him. He pushed his guilt down, telling himself he had done what was necessary at the time. 

“My nephew is awake.”

Rowan nearly screamed when she realized he was there, in her cell, watching her. She hastily grabbed the blanket, and tugged it up, covering her nudity. Her eyes filled with tears when she inadvertently broke open a scab, but she did not make a sound. 

“Does this please you?” Thorin calmly asked. Why wasn’t she talking? It annoyed him that she gave him the silent treatment. “Answer me, witch.” 

“I have nothing to say to you,” Rowan managed to whisper. 

“You are my prisoner. I am the only one you will say anything to,” came his commanding reply. “How did you come upon my nephew? And pray you do not lie to me.” 

“I found him at the river. He washed up near my home. I thought he was dead, but I saw that he wasn’t. I took him home, and cared for him, as best as I could.” 

“You refused to answer before, yet you do not hesitate now.” Thorin tilted his head at her. “Why?” 

“Because he's awake, and now you know I did not lie.” Rowan’s eyes met his from across the room. As carefully as she could, she pulled herself up, and scooted back so that she could lean against the wall. Her face was pale, and her eyes had filled with tears at the pain that waking up had caused her. Rowan miserably thought to herself that it was too bad that she hadn’t just died in her sleep, really. 

“I didn’t know that.” 

“Because you refused to see the truth,” Rowan shot back.

“Why did you try to kill me?”

“Because you killed my family,” came her soft reply. Thorin huffed out a breath. 

“I have never met your family.”

“There was a lot of families you never met, but you are also responsible for their death, Thorin Oakenshield.” Rowan’s eyes met his in challenge. “You, and you alone are responsible for every family that died when you woke that dragon.” 

Thorin’s eyes narrowed on hers. “You are very brave to speak to me in such a way. Very brave, or very stupid, and truthfully, I cannot decide which, yet.”

Rowan did not answer as she looked away from him. Her eyes landed on the dark corner across the small room. 

“I will allow you out of this cell, but not out of Erebor. For I do not trust you yet to not try and kill me or my family again.”

Rowan huffed out a laugh. “I’ve seen Kili’s thoughts. Felt his heart. He is a good man. I would never hurt him. Balin is a good man. And dare I say Dwalin is as well. I would not hurt any of them.” 

“But you would me, isn't that right?” Thorin finished. Rowan turned to look at him, one brow arched. 

“You are not a good man, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“I thought you couldn’t see my thoughts?” he sneered back at her, annoyed at her stupid logic. 

“I don’t have to touch you to know how terrible you are,” was what she came back with. Thorin rocked back, his mouth opening and closing in shock. Rowan looked away again, dismissively. 

“Aye, you will remain in Erebor, under watch and lock, but I will allow you out of this cell.” Thorin pushed off the wall and walked towards her. Instinctively, she pressed back against the wall, trying to get away from him as she tucked her legs and covered more fully with the blanket. He frowned at her actions, but didn’t address them. Deep down, he knew he deserved her fear of him, but in this moment, he didn’t know how he felt about that realization. 

“You will do the king’s will, witch. Until such a time as I deem you free.”

“I am no man’s slave, certainly not yours. And I will never submit to you, so you might as well kill me now. Or let me go.” Rowan shot back, earning a small smile from Thorin, one that he quickly hid behind his large hand. He would never let her know that her fiery nature humored him, deceitful creature that she was. 

“That day will never come, witch, but please, feel free to hold your breath.” 

And with those parting words, he left the cell, leaving Rowan to stare after him in shock and not a little fear, as she waited for what would come next….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know in the book Balin is older. So let’s just say a lot will be movie-based. Curious to hear your thoughts.


	7. Chapter 7

Rowan sat in her thoughts, clutching her blanket to her chest, her mind spinning with the new developments.

Kili was awake. And if he was awake, then just maybe he would be the one that could convince Thorin to release her. She’d done nothing but help Kili, and he could attest to that, as she remembered he'd woken at least once while in her care. Maybe he remembered, and if he remembered, and if he explained, then there was no need for her to remain in Erebor...Unless Thorin intended to keep her as his prisoner as he’d stated earlier. 

If Thorin was really as evil as she worried he was – and that was a distinct possibility that she had to consider given his behavior - then maybe he would keep her here regardless. 

She idly ran her hand over her swollen lips, wondering about her appearance, and knowing she looked horrible. She honestly couldn’t remember a time when she felt more dirty than she did right now. Judging by the smell coming off her, she knew she was filthy, her skin covered in dirt, and blood, and disgusting wounds that were trying to heal in these dirty conditions. She could feel the welts on her back, and though they were easing, they were still there. It hurt, no matter where or how she sat. She shifted her legs in front of her, crossing them at the ankles. It was a good thing they’d not given her food or water, since the one time she’d had to use the bathroom, it had been in the bucket in the corner, and that only added to her feelings of disgust as she'd not been able to clean herself. She did not want to have to do that again. And besides, her hunger pains had long since diminished, and she couldn't tell if she was hungry or thirsty, or what. As she waited in the dark for whatever would come next, her mind kept turning things over and over as she tried to think of a plan to get herself out of this mess. 

She wanted Thorin Oakenshield to suffer for what had happened to her family, but she was not naïve enough to deny that she was not as strong in her conviction as she'd like to be. She was not an evil person at her core, and if she repaid Thorin in that way that she envisioned, would she not be just as terrible as he was? She fiddled with her fingernail, warring with herself. What would her mother think if she knew her daughter was plotting someone’s death, even someone as horrible and deserving as Thorin Oakenshield? 

“You’d talk me out of it, wouldn’t you, mama?” Rowan wondered out loud. Her eyes filled with tears as she sat and waited for an answer that would never come, for her mother was gone. She would never get her advice again, would never hear her mother’s laughter again. She would never see any of them, ever again. She swiped her tears away, angry again at Thorin. It was his fault, his and his alone, and he deserved to pay for it. 

_But did she have the courage to carry through with such a plan? _

She tried to work things out in her head, tried to separate things so that she could understand better, herself and him, and this whole mess she'd found herself in. 

Thorin blamed her for Kili, and that was why he’d beaten her – he assumed she was holding information from him that would help his nephew wake up. Would she have done the same if it was her family? Would she have gone to any length to do what had to be done to save a member of her family? She didn't know, but they were both valid questions that she didn't have answers to at the moment. Now that Kili was awake, he had to know that she was innocent of what he'd assumed about her, and therefore, he had no reason to keep her in Erebor.

But, she remembered with reluctant annoyance, she’d also tried to kill him.

And even though she’d somewhat explained her reasons to him, she doubted he understood her hatred of him, and therefore, her reasoning for trying to kill him. And because she tried to kill him, he didn’t trust her. Rowan snorted in annoyance, knowing she couldn’t blame him for that at least. She chewed a fingernail, wishing she didn’t have as much insight into the dwarf king as she did, but she couldn’t deny it any longer: She had to take into consideration the small bits of information she’d managed to glean from him, for it told her a different story. A very different story.

These little bits of knowledge made her rethink things, though she didn’t want to admit that to herself. Made her rethink her whole blasted plan about killing him. Thorin was not as closed off from her as she had originally believed, whether he was aware of it or not. The little bits of information she’d gotten from him, it wasn’t near as much as she’d gotten from the others, but she’d been able to feel things from him, to get little snippets of his mind when he’d touched her, fragmented images as they were, and in those small moments, she’d learned a great many things about the king under the mountain. It wasn't mind reading that she was capable of, but more along the lines of emotion and memory reading. She couldn't tell what someone was going to do in the next few moments, but she could get images of things they had done. Of things they had seen and experienced. And some of the things she'd seen in Thorin's mind were hard to digest. 

Sad, heartbreaking things that she wished she’d never known, for those things were all working against her original plan. Making her feel in a way sorry for him, though she would never, ever forgive him for hitting her the way he had. It was a weird state of ambivalence she found herself in, and she liked it not one bit. Nor did she understand it. 

When he’d grabbed her about her neck, she had glimpses of his thoughts, almost as if she was watching pieces of shattered glass try to rearrange themselves and form some kind of image that only she could see. She saw a young dwarf with dark hair and dancing blue eyes, his laughter deep and rich and full of life. He was playfully chasing another dwarf, a female, with his same coloring, and with her was another male dwarf, slimmer and slightly taller. This other dwarf had light hair, almost blond, and he appeared to have deeply brown eyes, very similar to Kili’s, if she remembered correctly. She could still hear the sound of their laughter; It was infectious, and it brought a lightness to her heart that she couldn’t deny. When he’d touched her again, that image had faded, blurring into the next one.

In this image, she’d seen the same dark-colored dwarf, only this time he was sobbing, alone on a battlefield, crying for who she knew not. HIs misery broke Rowan’s heart, and the depth of his despair and hopelessness had filled her entire being with a palpable sadness. Deep down, she knew who this young dwarf was, knew that it was Thorin Oakenshield, and she knew that he was grieving the loss of someone dear to him. And despite her hatred of him, she would be lying if she said she didn’t understand his grief, as she’d also experienced that in her lifetime, and she knew how deeply consuming it could be. 

It was strange, as she’d never come across anyone before that she’d not been able to manipulate, whether it be man, woman, child, or beast. It was even more strange that she’d been able to feel him, but he hadn’t seemed to feel her. Strange that Thorin Oakenshield had been so unaffected by her.

She lifted her chin, wincing with the effort, as swollen skin and bruised flesh protested. Whatever little pity she felt for him she willed it away, telling herself that it mattered not. Whatever sort of dwarf he had been, however different he was before, he was no more. The dwarf that had beaten her so fiercely was not any dwarf that she wanted to be around, not now, and not ever. And besides all that, he was responsible for her family’s death, whether he wanted to accept that responsibility or not. And she was going to make him pay before she left Erebor. 

She had been thinking for a while how to play things. Should she continue to remain mute and closed off, to offer no answers, and possibly suffer more beatings at the hand of Thorin Oakenshield, or should she pretend to have forgiven all, and behave the way he wanted? That way, she could possibly earn his trust, and in turn, get closer to him than he should allow. It was the only way she’d be able to exact any type of revenge, for if she kept going the way she was, he’d never allow her out of this cell. 

So many decisions. And whether she was up to actually killing him remained to be seen, but she knew that she needed to keep that option open, rather than lose it altogether. She chewed another nail. 

She instinctively knew Balin was a good dwarf, and she hadn’t even touched him. Dwalin was a bastard, and tough as nails, but she’d seen in his touch how much he loathed this whole business. He hadn’t wanted any part of Rowan, good or bad. And Kili…Kili was a good dwarf, Rowan thought, breaking into a smile. He was happy, and kind, and fiercely loyal. She managed to draw on his thoughts as he slept, and was able to see that he had a good heart, a playful heart. The one time he'd opened those deep brown eyes of his, she'd seen his heart, and she'd felt that he was inherently good, regardless of his lineage. He was nothing like Thorin Oakenshield, and was in fact someone that she would want to be around, should the circumstances be different, as he reminded her of her brother so much. 

But, she reminded herself, the fact was that he was indeed Thorin’s nephew, no matter how she wished it otherwise. And that complicated things. 

The door opened again, and she braced herself, worried that it was him, come again.

Mercifully it was not Thorin, and she relaxed somewhat. 

“Hello.” The old dwarf stepped inside the cell, his nose wrinkling as he smelled the putrid stench of waste and uncleanliness. Rowan stared back at him, uneasy. “My name is Balin, and I come on behalf of the king.” 

Rowan watched with wary eyes. 

“The king has asked that you be moved to the royal wing. To his wing. You are to be in his services until he deems it otherwise.” Balin matter-of-factly explained, though he himself was still shocked at Thorin’s odd request. How did she go from prisoner to tenant of the royal floor? Yes, Kili was awake, but this was a bit extreme to move her so close. He was still shaking his head at that, though he did not question Thorin’s command, erratic as it were at times. 

Rowan sat quiet, not knowing what to do, or how to do it. Was it true? Was he really going to let her out of this cell? She had to pretend to not be thrilled, when deep down, all she could think was that the idiot was giving her the opportunity she wanted more than anything in the world. Could he truly be stupid enough to let her out? 

“So come, lassie. Let’s get you up and cleaned.” Mission oriented as usual, Balin lifted the flap of what remained of the curtain over the small door, giving more light to the room. He turned back to Rowan, and saw that she’d not moved, save for drawing her legs in closer to herself. 

“I promise you, no harm will come to you, so long as you behave.” Balin clasped his hands at his waist. “Tell me, what is your name?” He already knew, but wanted to engage her. 

“Rowan,” she answered, giving him her most innocent look. If Thorin was going to be this stupid, she wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass by messing it up on her end. She had to make them all believe she was no danger, especially to the king. If Thorin thought otherwise, he’d keep her here forever. Or worse, he’d kill her. She had to be smart about things, at least until she figured everything out. 

“Rowan, ‘eh? As in mountain ash?” Balin tilted his head curiously. Rowan nodded. 

“My mother, she loved trees and flowers and growing things. All of us children are named after trees or flowers.”

“So, you’ve got brothers and sisters, then?”

“I had…” Rowan trailed off, her voice catching. Balin saw her brow cloud and decided not to continue in this vein for fear of upsetting her more. 

“Well, enough chitter-chatter, my dear. Let’s get you cleaned up and situated in your new room. You have nothing to fear, lassie.” The old dwarf stepped forward and held up some keys. “Now, miss, I am going to unchain you, but I warn you, I’ve got two guards outside, and they have strict orders to contain you. In whatever way they see fit, to include death.” Balin sighed. “Please, lassie, don’t let it come to that, okay? You have been given a great reprieve, do not take it for granted.” 

Rowan nodded and held up her shackled wrists. She was so glad they were no longer at her back, and even more glad that the chains were coming off. Balin quickly undid the locks, and Rowan sighed with relief as she rubbed at the raw skin that had been uncovered. 

“Now, Rowan, please understand. You will have guards, and you won’t be free to roam Erebor, but this is a great honor for you.” Balin held out a cloak. “Now, please, put this on first. That blanket is hardly appropriate to go through the halls.” When the girl still made no sound, and no attempt to stand, Balin’s brows furrowed. “I thought you’d be pleased to be out of this dark place? Now that the prince has awoken, and we know you weren’t behind it, I dare say you may eventually be free to go. This is a good thing, lassie. Now come on, stand up, please.” 

After a few moments, Rowan did as he asked, and Balin watched as she stood on shaky legs. She was so careful to keep her body hidden, and Balin looked away out of respect for her. Rowan dropped the dirty blanket, and wrapped the cloak around herself, pulling it tight at her waist. It was royal blue, deep and rich, and smelled of leather and spice. She couldn’t resist pushing her nose at the collar and inhaling the comforting scent. She wondered who it belonged to, but in the same moment, realized she didn’t care. 

She was getting out of this cell. 


	8. Chapter 8

Rowan followed Balin out into the hallway, her hands clutched tightly at her waist to hold the cloak closed, and her head was kept low the entire time she was led down the multitude of hallways that eventually led to the royal baths. She didn't even bother to take in her surroundings, for she cared not to meet the eyes of anyone that may have seen her paraded through Erebor in such a terrible state. She was beyond embarrassed, and wanted nothing more than to be back in a room, hidden away from prying eyes. She heard whispers as they passed other halls, and could feel eyes on her, and more than once, she fought back tears of frustration at being so self-conscious. All the while, she was flanked by two guards that stood between her and Balin, so even if she wanted to chance an escape, it was futile at best. Once they'd arrived at the baths, Balin had informed her that the guards would be posted at and watching the exits, but that she was free to bathe in peace. Balin would remain in case she needed him, and she would still have her privacy, but he’d reiterated that she shouldn’t try to escape. There was no way out of the baths except for said exits, and if she tried, it would not end well. 

Stood before the baths, Rowan took one last look at Balin, and both the guards, ensuring their gazes were averted, before she dropped the cloak. She started crying when she saw the state of her body, and as she sank into the pool, it momentarily clouded as dirt and blood lifted from her and infiltrated the clear water. She grimaced, and swam a bit away from the offending murkiness. She looked terrible. Her skin was mottled with marks and purple smudges, healing bruises, and angry red cuts. She sniffled, and her eyes filled with unbidden tears at seeing her skin clearly in the brighter light of the bathroom. 

“You alright, lassie?” Balin called, his back still turned. 

“I’m fine,” Rowan answered, for she knew if she didn’t speak, he would come investigate. 

“We can’t delay, lassie. I have business to attend after I get you situated.” 

Resigned that she would have to deal with things as they were for the time being, and knowing she didn't have a lot of time, she grabbed the soap that was laying nearby and began hurriedly cleaning herself. She needed to calm herself down, needed to stop overthinking things, and allow things to unfold in due time. Thorin had let her out of the cell; that was step one. Step two was get close to him. Step three was to kill him. She angrily scrubbed at her scalp, forcing the dirt and grime out as best as she could as she tried to wipe away the memories. At least she would be clean when she’d managed to kill him...or when she got herself killed. She could not imagine spending the rest of her life in Erebor, under his thumb. She refused. She would die before she did that. All she wanted was to be reunited with her family, and to leave this wretched world behind, and it was going to happen, one way or the other. 

“We really must be going, lassie.” Balin stood. “Are you done?” 

“Yes, almost.” Rowan answered. “Let me get dressed.” She dragged herself out of the water, wincing again as her body cried out in pain, though she couldn’t deny that she felt one hundred times better at being clean. Her body would heal. Eventually. 

Balin, no longer trusting of her, chanced a look over his shoulder, and nearly gasped out loud at the sight he was met with. In the dark of the cell, it was easy to miss it, but here in the light, it was hard to deny the truth: The girl was covered, head to toe, in bruises, lacerations, and marks. She was so thin, her ribs stuck out, her spine visible along her back. Her back was covered with stripes and healing whelps from what Balin knew was Thorin’s belt. Her knees were covered in scabs, her shins and thighs had cuts and bruises that he was sure came also from the heavy belt buckle of Thorin’s belt. In short, she was marked, from head to toe, her entire body covered due to the king’s manhandling of her. Balin turned back around, one hand at his mouth to push back the bile that was rising in his throat. He would have never thought Thorin capable of such a thing. In that moment, he began to question himself, and his unyielding loyalty to Thorin Oakenshield. What had his friend and king become? 

“Okay, I’m ready,” Rowan called quietly. Balin turned back around and found her stood there, one hand at the waist of the heavy cloak he’d provided. He forced himself to pretend as if he’d not seen anything, to look unaffected, though he was anything but. He was going to give Thorin an earful when he saw him. 

“You look much better, lassie.” He gave her a genuine smile. Rowan only looked down at her feet. “We’ll get you fed, and in a proper room, and I’m sure you’ll feel much better before too long.” 

Rowan nodded, and followed Balin upstairs to her new room, still followed by the guards.

* * *

In another part of Erebor, Thorin was sat behind his desk, his head held in his hands as he cradled it, doing his best to fight off another pounding headache that lurked just behind his eyes. Oin had said it was a concussion that was causing the headaches, that when one hit their head as Thorin did on the hard ice, that the effects could last a good long while. Thorin didn't care for explanations; He just wanted the pain to stop. If he could take another drink, he was sure the pain would ease, but Oin had lectured him on the hazards of his heavy drinking. The company’s doctor had told him it was the pain meds for his wound, or alcohol – _but it would not be both._ Thorin sighed. In addition to his head pain, he was still recovering from his chest wound up at Ravenhill, and the multitude of other cuts and bruises he'd acquired in the battle. Not to mention the stab wound the witch had given him. That knife had gone deep, almost down to his shoulder bone, and it still hurt like hell. Sorely, he rotated his arm, grimacing as his thoughts returned to the witch. His aggravation flared again. 

By now, she’d be getting cleaned up and situated in her new room. And she had Kili to thank for it, for it was his vouching for her character that had convinced Thorin to let her out of the cell. She wasn’t free, mind you, but she wasn’t a prisoner any longer either. Thorin didn’t know exactly what she was, truth be told. His head started pounding as he thought too hard, and without care for the ass-chewing he’d get from Oin, he reached in his desk drawer and pulled out the secret bottle of wine he had stashed before. 

He took a drink, sighing in satisfaction as the warm liquid made its way down his throat. In a few moments, the pain would dull and all would be right in his world. At least for a little while. 

Kili had said the girl had saved him. His nephew had claimed that in one of his moments of lucidity, she’d told him her name, and explained that she was there to help him. Kili didn’t remember much after that and could only recall brief glimpses of being tended to, but he'd been adamant that Rowan was helping him, and not holding him hostage or trying to hurt him in any way. That she'd offered him comfort, and helped ease his pain and injuries. 

Thorin took another long sip. 

Guilt was eating him up, though if he sat long enough and worked it out in his mind, he could justify his actions, and push back the wave of shame that he felt. Being a king meant you did…_ undesirable things_. Things that others didn’t want to do, or were incapable of doing, he had to do. To include punishing those that needed to be punished and killing when necessary. Even if it were a fragile looking girl. He took another huge gulp to push the disgust down.

_The girl deserved neither,_ his conscience argued. Kili was alive and well, and probably in part due to her care for him. 

It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that he was wrong, but feeling as if he could see it from both sides.

_ He was doing what he needed to do, with the information he had at the time, to save his nephew's life, _his ego argued back. It was hard to admit he was wrong, when a part of him felt he was not wrong. At all. And besides, she was no one to him, no one of importance that he needed bend his knee to.

She was no one, and she would get no apology from him. 

Resolved, he finished off the bottle in one last, long swig, and wiped his hand across his mouth before pushing himself up to a wobbly standing position. He was weaker than he cared to admit, and he knew he needed to rest, but he also knew he had work to do. He shrugged his coat back on, and tightened his belt at his waist, before he headed back out into the night. There were repairs that needed overseeing, and his kingdom needed to see their king. 


	9. Chapter 9

Sometime later that day, Rowan had been dressed in a proper gown, her feet clad in shoes, and hair cleaned and braided by a dwarrowdam who’s name she never bothered to ask. Rowan had frowned at the garments, as they were much too big for her, but at least they weren’t a torn shift, nor were they the blue cloak. It sat, dejected in the far corner, no longer of use. Once she had finished her duties, the female dwarf had left without a word, leaving Rowan to sit and wait. 

And wait. 

And wait...

…and wait some more. Her mind spun out of control, her thoughts running rampant as her fears and frustration and anxiety mounted. 

She was beyond frustrated. She was scared. She was angry. She went from being happy to being free of the cell, to being overwhelmed with anxiety at being so close to the king. She passed in and out of sleep only occasionally, as she was afraid to close her eyes and be caught unaware. Even though Balin had assured her that she was safe, Rowan didn’t feel safe. She would never feel safe in this place, not with Thorin around. She’d been brought food and drink, but her stomach was still much too upset to eat, and so it remained untouched on the small table, much to the dwarrowdam’s dismay. 

“You really should try to eat, miss,” the female dwarf stated plainly. Rowan had turned over on the bed, giving the dwarf her back. After a few moments, the dwarf was gone, leaving Rowan alone again. 

Other than that, the dwarf hadn’t attempted any further conversation, and so Rowan made no effort on her part. While she wanted some kind of company, some kind of interaction, she didn’t want to talk about the elephant in the room – Her face and body, so beaten and just now beginning to recover. She’d seen the pitiful look Balin had given her. And she hadn’t missed the pitying looks the dwarf had given her when she’d been helping her get dressed earlier. Rowan was sure word had spread about her, and she was so ashamed of it all. 

She had no idea where Balin was, or if he would return. She couldn’t focus on anything else other than having to see the king again –If and when that happened. She knew it was inevitable. He’d basically said she was going to work for him until he determined otherwise. Her stomach was a tangle of knots at what was to come. Restless, Rowan sat up and looked around. She fingered the blanket on the bed, marveling at how plush the room was given the state of Erebor. It had a deep, brown carpet covering the floor, and richly covered tapestries draped over the walls. The window was covered in a heavy blue curtain, which she knew were the royal colors of Erebor. A fire crackled on the far wall, giving the room a warm an cozy feel. Rowan had come from such humble beginnings, and this was something she’d only ever dreamed off, to be housed in such a place. Even under such circumstances, it was beyond her wildest imagination to see such colors on fabrics, to see such grandeur, and she could not stop touching things and marveling over them. Her father had always spoken of dwarven craftsmanship, and now after having seen it for herself, she would agree that it was truly remarkable, despite her feelings about dwarves themselves. 

She didn’t notice the door had opened.

“You are her.” 

Rowan looked up from her inspection of the blanket to see that there was a dwarf in her doorway. 

“Kili.” 

He nodded, his face breaking out into the smile that she always knew he was capable of. Despite herself, she found herself smiling back at him. He stepped closer, and she noticed he walked with a slight limp. 

“I am not supposed to be here,” he explained, keeping his distance. “My uncle said that you have some sort of power when you touch someone, and that I should not approach you.” He moved closer. “But I had to see you. To thank you.” 

Rowan crawled over the bed and sat at the edge, her fingers clasped in her lap. “Kili, you might not believe me, but I have no interest in hurting you. Don’t you think I would have already done it, if that was my intent?” 

Kili stepped a foot closer. “The guards, they are right outside of the door.” 

Rowan nodded in understanding. “I won’t hurt you. You have my word.” 

Kili came even closer, stopping less than a foot from Rowan. She looked over his features, delighting that he was doing so much better than last she remembered. His color had come back, and his eyes, those deep, chocolate-pools of brown, were glittering with life. He reminded her so much of her brother, with his dark hair and dark eyes, that just for a minute, Rowan found herself lost in her memories. Without thinking, she reached out to him, cupping Kili’s cheek just as she would have her brother’s. For a moment, fear flashed over the young dwarf’s face, but it was quickly replaced with an easy smile. 

“I’m sorry!” Rowan pulled her hands back, but Kili caught her at the wrist, and replaced her palm at his cheek. 

“How did you do that? I feel sad, when a moment ago, I was happy,” Kili marveled as she touched his skin. “Sadness and happiness, bittersweet. How is this possible?”

“When I touch someone, I can feel what they are feeling. And I can make them feel what I feel, good or bad. Sometimes I get images of the emotions, like pictures in my head.” She tried to pull her hand away again, but Kili stayed it. “I’m sorry. I was thinking of my family.”

“Your family?” Kili asked. 

“You remind me of him. My brother,” Rowan whispered. A big fat tear rolled down her cheek and dripped from her jaw, but she was smiling. “You remind me of him, in so many ways.” 

Kili’s brow creased as he got an image of a great fire, and he put two and two together. “You lost him in the dragon-fire. He, and all your family.” 

“Yes,” Rowan whispered again. Both her eyes were welled with tears now, and both cheeks had wetness running freely down. She pulled her hands back, not wanting to reveal anything more to him. He didn’t need to know how much she hated and blamed his uncle. 

“I am sorry.” The sincerity in Kili’s eyes made Rowan’s heart clench in her throat. 

“It was not your fault.” She sniffled, self-conscious at being so open with her feelings in front of this dwarf. 

“You blame my uncle.” 

For the first time, Rowan’s eyes flashed at Kili, but she did not answer. She didn’t need to. 

“It’s why you attacked him, is it not?” Kili pulled up a chair, and sat down, sighing with relief at being off his feet. “He explained it to me, how he found me in your home, how you stabbed him. And now, after seeing all of this, it makes sense." 

Rowan sat back down on the bed, drawing her knees up to her chest. “How can I not blame him? How can I not hate him for all that he’s done? He is responsible, is he not?” She rested her chin on top of her knees, and in doing so, the sleeve of her gown pulled up, revealing her forearm. Kili frowned when he saw a multitude of bruises on her arm, and despite his misgivings, he reached out, and placed a hand at her wrist. He turned her arm over, looking closely. 

“Did he do this?” Kili lightly squeezed her arm, and then recoiled, as if he had seen something terrible in his mind. Rowan’s eyes met his, and she knew that he had seen what she was remembering, the beatings Thorin had given her. 

“I think he thought I had you poisoned or sleeping under some spell. I’m a witch, don’t you know?” Rowan huffed out a dispassionate laugh. Kili drew his hand back, and for the first time, Rowan saw anger on the young dwarf’s face. 

“You did not deserve this, Rowan.” 

“No, I didn’t, but he is a king.” She tried to shrug it off. 

“You did not deserve this,” Kili stated again, his lips pressed. 

“Please, don’t,” Rowan held up a hand at the young dwarf, not wanting to speak anymore of this. It was embarrassing. 

The two sat in a heavy silence for a few moments, until Kili reached out his hand and grasped Rowan’s. Her heart clenched at the image of a young, blonde dwarf that sprung up behind her eyes. It was followed by sadness, and she couldn’t resist squeezing Kili’s hand as she tried to offer him some measure of comfort. 

“I also lost my brother.” The dwarf’s voice grew gruff, though he managed to smile around his sadness. “Fili, was his name. He fell at Ravenhill. During the battle for Erebor.” 

“I can feel that he was very brave,” Rowan offered her own smile. 

“He was. Hardheaded, and strong. He was the brains between the two of us.” 

“Now that I am not surprised about,” Rowan teased, trying to lighten the moment. Kili gave her a half-smile back, though his humor did not reach his eyes. She could see that he was still coming to terms with the depth of his loss. She squeezed his hand again. 

“It will get better, Kili. Promise.” 

“You cannot blame my uncle for what happened to your family, for if you do, you must blame me and all the others as well.” Kili looked up, his mouth set in a grim line. Rowan pulled her hand back and tucked it at her lap. “Rowan, you cannot let revenge and anger lead your path.” 

“I think you should go now,” Rowan looked away from the dwarf that would be her friend. Her eyes landed on the window. “We have nothing left to talk about.” 

Stubbornly, Kili came around the bed and sat down on the edge so that he could see her eyes. 

“There were 13 of us, Rowan. And a wizard, and a hobbit, there were. We all agreed together to take back Erebor, for it was our home. It is our home.” He reached out and grabbed her hand, holding it snug with his. He was immediately hit with a burning rage, and an overwhelming sadness that nearly brought tears to his own eyes. Instead of letting go, he held her hand tightly in his. “I can feel how sad you are, and I am sad with you, for I have lost my dear brother. And countless other family and friends. But you cannot blame Uncle Thorin, unless you are to blame me, and Balin, and every one of these other dwarfs. Do you understand?” 

“I just want to leave,” Rowan was crying again, damn it all to hell. She reached up with her spare hand and wiped at the hot wetness on her cheek. “Your uncle says I am to be his slave until he decides otherwise.” 

“I am sure he will change his mind, Rowan. You’ll see. He’s not himself right now, hasn’t been for a while…” Kili trailed off. Rowan looked up at him, and she could feel the sadness again. She didn’t address it. Didn’t want to talk about Thorin Oakenshield anymore. 

A noise outside the door drew both their attentions, and Kili gave a reluctant smile. Time was up. 

“Thank you for coming to visit me, Kili,” Rowan squeezed his hand, forcing her thoughts to be more positive. The young dwarf prince looked up, gracing her with a smile. “Will you come more often?” 

“As many times as I can manage. It’s hard, sneaking past my uncle and those guards.” Both Kili and Rowan frowned at the door. Kili turned back and gave her a sheepish smile. “He’ll lighten up eventually. You must be patient, okay? And don’t do anything stupid. My uncle is…out of sorts lately…and he’s not handling things well. Not at all.” 

Rowan snorted. “That’s an understatement.” 

Smiling, Kili pushed himself up, and stood. “I must go now. But I will be back.” Rowan perched on the edge of the bed, watching him as he made for the door. Kili turned back to her. ‘Don’t tell anyone I’ve come, alright? It would be bad for both of us.” 

‘My lips are sealed,” Rowan smiled around pressed lips. Kili smiled back, gave a wink, and then he was gone. 

* * *

“She is black and blue, uncle!” Kili hissed angrily, his fists clenching and unclenching as he paced before his uncle’s desk. Thorin, for his part, had said nothing since his nephew had entered his study. 

“Her arms, Thorin! They are covered with bruises. Her face is bruised and cut. Her lips are cut, and her eye is swollen! Do you have nothing to say?” 

“To you? No, I do not.” Thorin stood on shaky legs, the alcohol’s effect still heavy on his limbs. He was more intoxicated than he thought. “And why are you in her room to begin with? I made it clear that none should enter her chambers, save the dwarf maid, and Balin! Why does no one listen to a word I say around here? Am I not the king?” Thorin slammed a finger into his chest, and nearly tumbled over from the impact. 

Kili’s eyes narrowed in disgust as he watched his uncle wobble. “You are drunk, as usual!” 

“Not entirely, but I will be soon enough,” Thorin jeered as he lifted the bottle of ale to his lips. Annoyed, Kili grabbed the bottle from his hand, and stepped back out of reach. 

“You do not need this!” Kili held up the bottle and then tossed it in the fireplace where it fizzed and popped and hissed. 

Thorin’s lips pressed, and he pinched the skin between his eyes as anger flared red-hot behind his lids. He did not have the patience for this today, or any other day. He just wanted to be left alone to his thoughts. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. 

“That was the last bottle I had. Go downstairs and get me another,” Thorin ordered as he began pushing some papers around on his desk, trying to organize them and make room for a map. He looked up to see Kili stood there, mute. “Did you hear what I said? Go and fetch the ale.”

“No,” came Kili’s stiff reply. 

“Kili, I am not in the mood for this. Go, do as I say.” Thorin continued moving stuff around on his desk and cursed when he spilled a container of ink onto the floor. Black ink splashed everywhere. Shit. 

‘No.” Kili stiffened his spine. 

At hearing that, Thorin grasped tightly the rolled-up map in his hand and crumpled it in his fist. His anger that had been simmering was reaching a near boiling point as he slowly walked around the desk to stand before his nephew. Kili defiantly met his uncle’s eyes, and it was clear that neither man would back down. Thorin’s icy blue eyes searched his nephew’s face. 

“Go. Get. The. Ale.” Thorin enunciated each word. 

“I said no.” Kili shook his head. Thorin stepped closer, and now his chest was pressed against his nephews. Kili shook his head again, this time in disbelief. “Are you going to hit me now, also? Like you did her?” 

“You are a stupid child. You know nothing of what I had to do to take care of you and your brother! The lengths I would go to to ensure the safety of this whole blasted family!” Thorin charged, his finger pressed at Kili’s sternum. “You think it easy, ruling this place? Keeping everyone alive? Putting it back together?” 

“And thus far, you are good at none, uncle.” 

Kili’s carelessly flung words hung in the air, heavy and weighted with accusation, and a great deal of heartache. Thorin blinked a few times, his mouth opening and closing as his words escaped him. The king deflated before his nephew, his shoulders dropping, and hands held up in surrender as he backed away. He found his chair again, and slunk down into it, and commenced to burying his head in his hands. Kili swallowed the lump in his throat at seeing his uncle openly crying, and he wanted to apologize – _he did_ – but he couldn't find it in himself to do so. Kili knew he was wrong, but had no idea how to take it back once it had been said. He hadn't meant those words, and deep down inside, he knew he didn't blame Thorin for Fili's death. Kili started to reach out to his uncle, but then dropped his hand, clenching it at his side. It wouldn’t matter what he said or did right now, for Thorin wouldn’t hear it. On the verge of his own tears, Kili watched as Thorin continued crying, silently, his shoulders shaking under the weight of everything. Kili couldn't ever remember a time when he'd seen his uncle this low, so despondent, and so very broken. 

Not knowing what else to do, Kili backed away, and let himself out of the study.... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had hoped we'd be further along by now, but everyone is being hard-headed and stubborn. Thanks for all your sweet comments! I swear I have the best fanfic readers ever! You guys make my day :-)


	10. Chapter 10

It would be another week that would pass before Rowan would be given a chance she simply could not pass up. 

As was their usual routine, the guards that had been tasked with her had come to inspect her room before locking her in each night. Usually it occurred when the dwarrowdam – who she now knew was called Halina – was giving her food and supplies, and cleaning her bathroom. The guards would come in behind the dwarrowdam, and check to make sure things were as they should be and ensure that nothing suspicious was happening. The first few times they’d walked around her room, Rowan had sat on her bed, watching them with mild disinterest. One guard would usually walk throughout the room, searching for anything out of place and checking the window, while the second guard would stand watch over her. His spear had always been pointed in her direction, and she’d been warned on more than one occasion that any perceived threat on her part would be met with a swift reaction from the guards. 

It was laughable really, that they thought her so formidable. When in fact, all she had any power over was touch and thoughts. And so far, Thorin was immune, so it would stand to reason that others might be also. 

Tonight, though, something about tonight was different.

Halina had come in alone, and had left the tray of dinner for Rowan on the small table, and the guards didn’t follow behind when the dwarrowdam had started her chores. Halina cleaned hastily, and without saying a word, and Rowan had noticed that the dwarrowdam appeared distraught, as if something was happening outside this room. 

“Halina, forgive me for asking, but is everything alright?” Rowan threw out the question, not believing she’d get an answer.

“No, it is not.” Came Halina’s response. Rowan’s ears perked up; her curiosity piqued. 

“I shouldn’t be talking to you of matters concerning Ererbor, but you should know what’s afoot, since you're in these halls. We’ve got orcs raiding our lands, miss. They’ve all but torn through Dale. King Thorin is out there now, with the others, trying to hold them back.” Halina cast a worried look at Rowan. “Pray, miss, that our king can protect us. We are naught but a skeleton crew here, what with Lord Dain having traveled back to the Iron Hills, and taking his warriors with him.” 

Rowan frowned. “Did Kili go with them?” 

“Aye, I believe he did, miss.” Halina sighed as she clasped her hands in front of her waist. “The entire company, save for Oin, who is here tending the wounded that are pouring in by the bucketful.” The dwarrowdam continued wringing her hands. 

Rowan’s frown grew at the notion of Kili out there fighting, what with his limp and barely just recovering. She hadn't seen him since his first visit; No doubt Thorin had forbid it. 

“Go, Halina. I don’t need anything from you. Go and help Oin,” Rowan smiled at the dwarf, wanting to reassure her somehow. “I’m sure he could use your help more than I could, and I can clean my own room.” 

“Thank you, miss!” Halina dropped the bucket she’d been holding, and left the rag on the edge of it before leaving the room. Rowan listened, but heard nothing else.

Once it was quiet, she crawled off the bed and made her way over to the table to see what had been brought for dinner. Her appetite had picked up in her solitude, and she’d come to look forward to Bombur’s delicious soups and stews. She had picked up a piece of bread, and was chewing on it, when her eye caught something shiny under the folded napkin. 

A paring knife, probably intended for the pear that was laying on the tray.

Smirking at her good fortune, Rowan pulled it out, casting a glance around the room as she made sure she wasn’t being watched. She was prepared that any moment, someone would jump out of the shadows and throw her back in the cell for taking advantage of this, but no one came. _It really seemed too good to be true,_ she thought, as she quickly tucked the knife away at her waist, both praising and pitying Halina for being so stupid. Poor girl. Thorin would kill them both when he found out. Bread in hand, she walked back over to the window and looked down.

It seemed quiet enough, and didn’t look as if war had broken out, at least from her perspective. But she was way up high in Erebor, so everything looked different up here. From far off in the distance, she could see some small fires that appeared to be a city on the edges of Erebor, but again, it didn’t look like what she thought a war would look like. She walked back to the table, and sat down to eat, all the while, her mind was spinning. If Thorin was out of the stronghold, now would be the time to leave. To escape. She took a bite of the pear, licking at the juice that ran down her chin. 

Or, she contemplated, she could wait until he got back, tired and exhausted, and probably not thinking about her, and kill him in his sleep. She had a weapon now. She took another bite, and continued to mull on what she should do. She still didn’t know if she was strong enough in her convictions to kill him, nor was she entirely sure he deserved it as much as she originally thought, especially after her talk with Kili. How could she blame Thorin, and Thorin alone, when there had been other’s involved? She ate her fill of the pear and set the remainder down on the plate, and finished by wiping her hands on the napkin. She carried some of the bread back with her to the bed, and sat down to continue thinking over what she should do. 

Her eyes focused on the door, and another thought occurred to her. Halina had said everyone was down with Thorin, so did that also include her guards? A new idea in her head, she quietly walked to the door and knelt down to see if she could see any feet under. She saw nothing. 

Cautiously, she tried the handle, and to her amazement, the door swung open to reveal an empty hallway. She timidly poked her head out, worried that she might get beheaded, but nothing happened. There was no one there. At all. Just as carefully, she stepped out into the hallway fully. 

She was free.

If she wanted to leave, she could probably make it happen. True, Erebor was huge and winding and she’d probably get lost, but right now would be the perfect time to escape, if she was going to attempt it all. No one would be worried about her, and she was dressed like a dwarf, and she was short like a dwarf, so maybe, just maybe it could work. She backed into her room and closed the door behind her, knowing she needed to think things through before she rushed into anything. As she sat back down on her bed, she pondered the pros and cons of all avenues. 

If she left, Thorin would kill Halina for being so careless, that was for certain. So, she’d have that on her conscious. She’d also never see Kili again. Or Balin. And knowing Thorin, he’d probably hunt her down, so she’d have to be on the run for a long time. And knowing Kili in just this small time, he might come after her as well, and it would be a huge mess that she’d rather not find herself in. 

On the other hand, if she stayed, she’d have the opportunity to exact the revenge that she was still toying with in the darker parts of her mind. The small part of her, despite Kili’s words, that continued to believe that it was Thorin that should pay for it all. Thorin that had killed her parents with his stupid quest, and Thorin that had beat her half-to- death. If she left, that opportunity would be gone, and if and when Thorin caught her, he’d probably kill her for real. 

Just as quickly, her mind began conjuring up another plan. A ridiculous, insane, hair-brained idea that even she couldn’t believe she’d thought up:

_What if she sneaked into Thorin’s room, and waited for him, and took her revenge then? _

She could hide behind his curtains, or under his bed. _Yes! Under his bed,_ she smiled evilly, as the wheels of her imagination began to spin. He would never suspect her being out of her room, what with him being so involved with the raids. She wasn’t dumb enough to realize that she might very well not carry through with it – and that would have its own consequences – but if she wasted this opportunity, she would never get another. She was sure of it. 

_She had to try, right? _

* * *

Rowan had waited under Thorin’s bed for what felt like hours. After she’d plumped up her bed to look like she was sleeping in it, she’d carefully crept over to the last door on the end of the wing, and found it was also open. It was Thorin’s – she knew that by his clothes carelessly tossed on the floor, and by the messy desk covered with maps and decrees that all had his mark on them. The bed was unmade, and an empty bottle of wine or some other alcohol was laying amidst the blankets and pillows. His fire was nearly died down but was still large enough to the keep the room warm. Not wanting to waste any more time, she’d tried to fit behind the curtain, but they weren’t long enough, and her feet would be revealed, and so reluctantly, she’d crawled under his bed. 

It was disgusting. 

She’d had to push more empty bottles of liquor away to make enough room, and had situated herself in-between dirty shirts and pants, and all manner of trash. In short, Thorin was a mess, in so many ways, no matter the show he put on outside this room. 

And so she had lain there in wait. 

And waited, and waited, and waited, until she could no longer keep her eyes open, and at some point, in the darkness of his warm room and slowly dying fire, she’d fallen asleep. The knife was still clutched in her hand, held close to her breast. 

It was only the sound of the bed creaking that jarred her awake, and she was lucky she didn’t yelp out loud when her head collided with the wooden beams that held his mattress in place. She clasped her hand over her mouth to steady herself, and waited. Heavy boots fell on the floor nearby, and she could plainly see they were wet and covered in mud. A torn, bloody shirt followed, and then his heavy body collapsed on the bed, weighing it down and sinking it over her. The empty bottle fell to the floor as the king rolled over, and all the while, Rowan did her best to remain as quiet as possible, for she knew dwarves had excellent hearing. She waited for a moment, worried he was going to realize she was there, but after some time, she heard his breathing even, and then heard soft snores indicating he’d fallen asleep. She hesitated, her heart palpitating wildly in her chest and so loud in her ears, that she worried Thorin would hear her. More minutes passed by, when suddenly the bed jerked above her, the wood creaking and groaning as the dwarf king began moving about wildly. Rowan ducked her head to avoid the heavily-dipping mattress, but frowned when she heard him start moaning. 

He was dreaming. 

Or having a nightmare, actually, as he muttered some words in that strange, guttural language that she still didn’t understand. But despite the lack of understanding, she could hear the fear in his words, and slowly, she crawled out from under the bed, and chanced a glance up at him to see what was the matter. 

Thorin was there, thrashing about on his bed, the sheets having slipped from his body, and Rowan watched in horrified fascination as this hugely muscled dwarf fought off some demon in his sleep. He was filthy, covered in blood and dirt and grime, and now he was sweating, his forehead, chest, and stomach covered with a fine sheen. She wrinkled her nose at the stench that arose from him, and she knew it was death and dirt and alcohol. He lurched forward, and called out something again, some more words she couldn’t make out, and then he fell back on the bed with a great thud. Rowan remained still, hidden in the shadow against the side of his mattress, and waited. After a few moments, the king began to murmur again, only this time it was sadness. Despite her hatred of him, she found herself feeling pity for him. She inched closer, knife still held in hand, until she was mere inches from him. She stared down at him, her eyes roving over his face before lingering on his chest. She lifted the knife. 

All she had to do was drive it into his heart, and then she could rest easy knowing she’d avenged her family. She raised the knife higher, and just when she thought she’d summoned enough courage to follow through, she heard Thorin whisper another name.

“Fili,” he’d said, the word just loud enough for her to hear._ Kili's brother,_ Rowan remembered. Thorin's nephew. Her hand wavered as she watched the king under the mountain begin shuddering in grief.

“I am sorry, Fili…please don’t…” Thorin began thrashing about again, his face contorted in pain and agony as tears spilled down his cheeks. His fists balled in the sheets, gripping them tightly as he fought. 

Seeing this strong man laid low, it tugged on something deep within Rowan's chest, and her heart lurched, painfully in response. She dropped the knife to the carpeted floor, and without thinking, pressed her palm at his cheek. She knew it didn’t matter, as Thorin didn’t feel anything from her, but she wanted to offer some measure of comfort, no matter how slight. Thorin flinched when her skin met his, but did not wake up, and Rowan closed her eyes, willing him to calm down. The wetness of his cheek coated her fingers and covered her hand, and surprisingly, Thorin’s breaths became more regular, his panting lessened, and finally the rise and fall of his chest became even. Rowan gave a small smile, seeing he’d fallen back into sleep, this time more restful it seemed. She carefully removed her hand from his cheek and slid down to sit on her bottom beside his bed, her throat constricted with her own pain, and not a little shame. 

She had failed. 

What had just happened? 

Why hadn’t she been able to follow through with killing Thorin Oakenshield? Her eyes filled with angry tears, but she quickly dashed them away with the back of her hand. She grabbed the knife, and was going to crawl away, when she was grabbed by the back of her neck and hauled upwards as if she weighed nothing. Her teary eyes met Thorin’s heavy blue ones, and she blanched at how suspicious the king looked...Especially when his eyes landed on the knife she held in her hand. He turned his icy glare back on her, and she released the knife to the ground, her eyes going wide as she dangled before him.

“What are you doing in my room, witch?” 


	11. Chapter 11

“What are you doing in my room, witch?” 

Thorin’s words were laced with deadly intent, and Rowan could only blink back at him, her air slowly being cut off by his harsh fingers at her throat. She knew he wanted an answer, and it had to be correct, but she couldn't get enough air to form a word! Desperate, she clawed at his forearm, gasping and choking, until he finally lowered her enough so that her feet could touch the floor at his bedside. His blue eyes never left her face, though his grip lightened only infinitesimally. Rowan stood there, her chest heaving and heart thumping in her chest with fear.

“I asked a question. Questions ordinarily require a response.” Thorin’s fingers tightened again. 

“I…I was…I heard you crying…and I wanted to help…” Rowan stuttered. Thorin’s lips curved up into a disbelieving smirk. 

_“You wanted to help me?_ I need no help from you, witch.”

The king took himself off the bed, though his fingers never left her throat, and now she found herself impossibly close to him, with her nose nearly at the spot right above his sternum. His shirtless body stared back at her. She gulped, and did her best not to react at being in such close proximity to the king. She had never been this close to a man so…_unclothed_…and Thorin, as much as she hated him, was undeniably beautiful. He was chiseled, as if he was made entirely of stone, and so very muscled, and thick, and covered in tattoos and scars. And much taller than she’d given him credit for. That, or she was much shorter than she had always assumed. She swallowed, painfully, around his fingers at her throat, but dared not to look away. 

“I am going to release you, witch. And then you are going to bend down, pick that knife up, and hand it to me.” He leaned down so that his face was at her ear. He was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath as it ghosted over her skin. “But if you try and stab me, or make any other stupid move, I will kill you, right here, right now. And then I will climb back in my bed, and sleep peacefully, as if nothing happened.” His fingers tightened again. “Do you understand me?” 

Rowan nodded. Thorin’s grip tightened further. 

“When I ask a question, I expect an answer. Until I release you, you are mine to command, and as do all my people, you will answer me with the respect due me. When I ask a question of you, or give you a command, you will say 'yes, my king', or 'no my king'. Am I being in any way unclear?” He tugged her closer with the hand at her neck, his cheek nearly pressed at hers, and Rowan felt her eyes well with tears of frustration. 

“No. I mean, yes…yes, my king. I understand….” Her words came out in a whisper, and it appeared that her statement had pleased Thorin, for his grip loosened. 

“Good girl. Now, bend down and hand me that knife.” 

The vice grip around her neck released, and Rowan, shaking and feeling incredibly nauseous, bent down and retrieved the knife. Her hand shook as she handed it to Thorin, blade first. She stared at the spot between his pectoral muscles, the one where the tattoo of the shield began, and unable to stop, felt a tear overflow and roll down her cheek. 

“I thought as much. You have no business playing with knives, girl. Hand it to me the proper way, with the blade facing you.” 

Rowan swallowed again, and her hand continued shaking as she turned the blade over and presented it to Thorin the way he instructed. He took it from her, and before she knew what was happening, he had the paring knife held at the base of her throat. She tilted her head back in an effort to get away from him and it, and now both eyes had filled with, and were overflowing from tears. With his thumb on the spine of the blade, Thorin traced the knife along the delicate curves of her neck, with just enough pressure to cause the slightest amount of pain. Rowan was terrified, and it took everything in her to not cry out in fear.

“You had your chance, witch. Why didn’t you kill me this time?” He traced the sharp tip lower, along her collarbone, and then down and across her décolletage revealed by the too-big gown. Rowan’s body broke out into goosebumps, a mixture of fear, and some other emotion that she’d never felt before. The nausea slammed her in thick waves. The feeling of that cold blade against her heated skin, his other hand gripping her hair so tight at the base of her skull…it made her stomach turn in the strangest of ways. She dared a swallow, wincing when the blade was brought back up to rest at the base of her throat. 

“We have discussed this, just moments before. Your king asks a question, and you answer accordingly.” Thorin pressed the knife closer, indenting the skin at the bottom of her throat. “Answer me.” 

“You were calling out for someone, my king. Fili, you said. And you were…crying…and I tried to help you.” Her lips trembled, and chin scrunched up as she cried. She hated feeling so helpless, so unable to take care of herself. And now she was embarrassed. Tears freely rolled down her cheeks, landing on Thorin’s forearms. 

“You tried to help me…” Thorin stated out loud, more to himself than to her. Rowan gave a tearful nod. “Why?” 

“I don’t know, my king. I don’t know,” Rowan answered as plainly and as truthfully as she could. She did not know why she hadn’t followed through with trying to kill him. She didn’t know why she had tried to help him instead, why his grief had affected her the way it had. She simply did not know. 

“Hmmm,” Thorin mused. He dragged the blade over her collarbone again, and back up to her throat. The other hand tightened in the hair behind her head, and he turned her tear-streaked face up to his so that their eyes met. Rowan blinked to clear away the blurriness so that she could focus on his face, but it was so hard. She dared not lift a hand to wipe away the wetness clouding her vision. 

“You are scared.” Thorin’s brows drew together as his blue eyes pierced hers.

“Yes, my king.” She subconsciously licked at her lips to fetch a tear rolling down. She watched as Thorin’s eyes were drawn down to her mouth, and for the strangest reason, she felt heat bloom in her cheeks, and warmth spread across her chest as she watched him, watching her. 

“Because I hurt you before.” 

“Ye…yes.” Her eyes widened when she realized she’d forgotten to finish the sentence. “My king.” 

“Would it ease your fears to hear that I have no plans to hurt you like that, ever again?” Thorin’s grip in her hair eased up, and Rowan breathed out a sigh of relief as his fingers seemed to thread themselves through her hair, and she would swear he was massaging her, easing the damage he’d inflicted on her poor scalp. A strange part of her wanted to close her eyes and pretend that they were somewhere else, and that things weren’t so terrible, but she dared not. His fingers tightened in her hair again. “Answer me.” 

“I have no choice but to take your word, my king. To trust you.” Rowan answered plainly.

For a moment, she waited, worried she’d said the wrong thing, but then Thorin did the most unexpected thing and smiled at her. He smiled. A full smile, one with dimples on his full cheeks, and formed laugh lines around the edges of his eyes. One that made those eyes seem so much bluer, and so much clearer, and Rowan wanted to smile with him, but found she could not for fear of retribution. And so instead, she bit at her lower lip, forcing herself to remain as neutral as possible. Thorin slowly released her, and brought his hands down at his side. Rowan stood still, not moving a muscle, save for the wildly beating tempo of heart. She watched, warily, as Thorin walked over to his table and set the knife down. He uncorked a bottle of wine, and took a long drink from it. Rowan continued standing there, not knowing what to do or if she should move, or what. After a few anxious moments, the king addressed her again as he turned to her. 

“Fetch that chair. Bring it over here, near my desk.” He tilted his head at an abandoned chair in the far corner, and then turned back around to his desk and began shuffling some papers around. Rowan did as he asked, though she struggled with the chair being so heavy. Eventually, she managed to half-drag, half-carry it back to Thorin’s table. She stood next to it, and waited until he addressed her again. 

“Sit.” 

Rowan did as he commanded, and sat. She kept her eyes averted, focused on the table, and not him, as she waited. She was still shaking, and clasped her hands together in her lap in an effort to control it. 

“My nephew is very fond of you.” Thorin turned back to her, pinning her with his azure gaze. “He believes you are trustworthy. As does Balin. Very good on bewitching my nephew and oldest advisor, and now my maid, by the way.”

Despite being annoyed at Thorin's insinuation of her being a witch that casts spells on people, Rowan found herself smiling at the mention of Kili and Balin. She would very much like to see them again, though she was sure Thorin wouldn’t allow it. Her smile faded at that, and Thorin's next words. 

“But, you escaped your room. Which was forbidden. And you did not kill Halina, though I may do that myself.” 

“No!” Her earlier happiness gone, Rowan cried as her frantic eyes met the king’s. He arched an eyebrow, and she immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, and looked down at her lap. “I mean, please don’t hurt her, my king. It was I that convinced her to go and help your healer. Anything she did wrong, it was my fault. I…I told her to go. My king. I told her to go.” 

“And she does not answer to you, witch. And even worse, she was careless enough to allow you to acquire a knife. That you almost used to kill me with,” Thorin reminded. “That is not only insubordination, but also carelessness on her part, and both must be punished.” 

“But she was worried, my king!” Rowan cried again. She looked up at Thorin, her eyes welling again with those damned tears. “Please, she only wanted to help. She was so worried. About you, and Erebor, and the healer. Please. She only wanted to help.” 

Thorin crossed his arms over his sizeable chest and paced, one hand cupping his bearded jaw as he pondered what to do. 

“Punish me. Please, my king. Punish me instead of her.” Rowan pleaded softly. Thorin stopped pacing, and pinned her to the chair with that cold gaze of his. His brows were drawn together as he stared her down. 

“You would stand in her stead, and take her punishment, without knowing what it may be?” Thorin stopped in front of her and leaned down so that his face was level with hers. Rowan kept her eyes lowered, but she couldn’t contain the squeak that escaped when Thorin tipped her chin up with a finger at her jaw. He forced her to meet his eyes. “Why?” 

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” was all she could manage, and damn it, it sounded more like a question than an answer. 

Staring into his eyes, Rowan couldn’t think straight, could barely form a coherent thought, and found her breath was so very shallow. His eyes were an amalgamation of various shades of blue: a mixture of striking azure, the most sparkling of sapphires, and the coldest of steel, and she found herself captivated by them. She felt as if he were looking straight into her soul, as he could see her every thought and feeling she had in her body, and it unnerved her to no end, though she couldn’t understand why. She’d seen blue eyes before, so why were his different? Her mind scrambled to find a solution to this problem, and she—

“Answer me, witch.” Thorin tilted his head, his command dragging Rowan back to reality. She swallowed the lump in her throat. 

“I…I don’t know what you asked me…my king…” Rowan felt herself flushing again, and she wanted so badly to look away, but knew that he would take offense if she did, and so she averted her eyes instead, back to his throat. She could kind of see his face still in her vision. “Forgive me.” 

Thorin hesitated for a few moments, then stood, and moved back over to his desk. He sat down and grabbed some papers and began looking them over. “I asked if you were prepared to do Halina’s job, in her stead? No matter what it entailed.” He did not look up from his paperwork as Rowan saw when she chanced a glance at him. His brow was furrowed, his focus solely on whatever it was he was reading. 

“Yes, my king.” 

“Very good,” came Thorin’s gruff reply. They sat in silence for a few moments, and then Thorin’s gaze landed on her again. “I will allow you some freedom, so long as you do what is asked of you. Without question, and without comment. Then, once I know I can trust you, I may set you free.” 

Rowan gave a small smile. Thorin frowned at her, and her smile disappeared back to where it came from. 

“What should I do now, my king?” 

“Now, I want you to go to the door, and summon my guards. Bring them in to me.” He looked back down at his paperwork, and began reading again. Rowan did as he asked, and timidly opened the door. A moment later, the guards stepped inside, and waited for their king to speak.

“Take the girl back to her quarters. Ensure she does not escape.” Thorin’s words were heavy with meaning, and Rowan could only bow her head. The king looked up, addressing her. “Balin will come for you in the morning. He will explain what is required of you.”

Rowan nodded. Thorin continued. 

“Remember what we spoke of, witch. You only get one chance with me. Mess it up again, and you will pay with your life. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, my king. I won’t mess up again.” Rowan stated softly. 

“Take her away. One of you watch her room. See that she does not leave that room, save for my command.” Thorin dismissed them all with a wave of his hand, and Rowan followed the guards back to her room for the night. 

* * *

Thorin, for his part, was completely out of sorts. The guards had taken the witch back to her room, and he was still sitting in this damn chair, doing nothing of importance. He had been staring at this parchment in front of him for way too long, and pretending as if he were working, when he didn’t even have any damned ink nor a blasted pen to write with. And even if he had his pen, and he'd not spilled the ink everywhere, he doubted he'd be able to concentrate on anything worthwhile. The girl had done something to him, and he was more than a little inclined to believe that she’d bewitched him, just as she’d done to his maid, and nephew, and friend. There was no other excuse for his shift in emotions where she was concerned, no explanation for the way his body was reacting to her in this way. He stared at the closed door, his thoughts on her. 

He’d woken from a heated dream – _about her, damnit!_ – to find her crawling away from his bed, the knife in her hand. And when he’d grabbed her, and felt her physically, the embodiment of his dreams stood before him, he’d wanted nothing more than to drag her into his bed and finish the filthy dream he’d been having about her only moments before. He lowered his head to his clasped hand, and his obscenely twisted mind turned back to that dream; He felt a bead of sweat begin forming over his upper lip at the lewd images that flashed behind his closed eyes. Mahal, the way she moved over him, her beautiful breasts proudly displayed and slim body contorting with pleasure as she rolled her hips against him, and took what she wanted from his body. Waves of her thick brown hair fell about her shoulders, and then over him when she leaned down to claim his lips with hers, and Thorin could still hear the sounds of her breathy whispers as she nipped along his lower jaw, and then down his collarbone as she kissed all over his bare chest, her sweet lips and delicate tongue tracing patterns all over his heated skin, and —

He shoved a clenched fist into his mouth to stifle his moan, and shifted his legs to alleviate the pressure in his groin from his too-tight breeches. 

“Fuck!” He hissed to himself, and the empty room. Beyond frustrated, he abruptly stood, and grabbed his shirt and towel, and shoved his feet back into his boots. He stopped at the door, taking a moment to compose himself – and tried to tamper down his raging erection – before he stepped out into the hallway. The guards immediately stepped to attention, but Thorin paid them no mind as he stomped down the hallway, and then down the stairs to the baths. He needed a cold shower, and not damn thing else from anyone. 

All the while, he cursed that witch that resided not 100 feet from his damn room. He sneered to himself, annoyed at that fact that she was probably sleeping soundly, tucked away in her warm bed, with no care for anything else, all while he was all worked up. It was her fault that he couldn't sleep. Her fault that he could't focus on work. And it was her fault that his family and workers were behaving so erratically. 

It was all her damn fault.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, is it hot in here? 
> 
> It's just me? 
> 
> Okay ;-)


	12. Chapter 12

Rowan spent a restless night alone, tossing and turning in her bed as she wavered in and out of sleep. Her dreams were fraught with visions of Thorin and his belt, his great, heaving body wrought with anger and fury, beating her naked form, over and over, until she passed out into a bloody heap at his feet. Then in the next moment, she’d see her family, their bodies burned beyond recognition, her sister crying, and her mother, pleading for Rowan to help her ease the suffering. She woke up crying, her stomach roiling, and her gown drenched with sweat, and decided that she would spend the rest of her night up and out of her bed, perched on the great windowsill in her room and wrapped in her blanket. From there, she could look down upon that far off city to see its lights, and could sometimes see stars above when the clouds parted and revealed them. She had no idea how it had come to this, how she’d ended up in service to the king, when she’d initially set out to kill him. She was such a failure, in so many ways. She was still terrified of Thorin, whether she would outright admit it or not, but she wouldn’t show him that if she could help it. He’d latch onto that and use it against her, bastard that he was. 

However, she couldn’t deny that the Thorin she’d seen last night was different than the one she’d grown terrified of. The one last night seemed reasonable, and almost approachable. Perhaps even likable, though that was a long stretch by any measure. _That Thorin also haunted her dreams, though she tried no to give that any thought_. She worried with her fingernail, chewing it down to the nailbed.

In her head, she’d gone over and over her idiotic idea of sneaking into his room, and the colossal failure that the plan had ultimately ended in. Who was she kidding? She was no assassin, no killer. Her single opportunity was that first day he’d entered her home, and blinded by rage and grief, she’d struck at him with her knife. The momentum was long-gone, never to return, for she was not a murderer at heart, no matter how deep her grief ran. And by accepting that, she’d now found herself in Thorin’s service, whatever that entailed. Her only hope was that by proving herself, she’d eventually be set free, to return back to her home, or what was left of it. She could only hope that Thorin would be true to his word, and let her go once she’d served her purpose. Kili and Balin believed in the king’s word, and even Halina spoke fondly of him, so she would have to accept that it would be true...at least for the moment. 

It was just after sunrise when she’d gotten herself down from the window ledge and prepared for the day. She was stepping from her small washroom when she heard the knock, and was she was very surprised to see Balin at her door. Grateful to see a friendly face, she couldn’t resist gifting him with a smile as he entered, and he returned the smile. As she stepped further into her room, Rowan found that during her time in the bathroom, someone else had entered, and left a piping hot bowl of porridge on the table.

“Well, lassie, don’t you look a great bit better!” Balin approached her at the breakfast table. He pulled up the chair opposite her, and sat, indicating that she should do the same, and she did. 

“Whoever brought this, just did so while I was dressing,” she explained. Balin nodded at the food. 

“Then you best eat it before it gets cold. Nothing worse than cold porridge.” 

“I have missed you,” Rowan stated. “I hope I’m allowed to say that?” She took a bite of her food. 

Balin laughed heartily at her cheekiness and reached over to grab a piece of her bread. “And I you.” 

“So, did the king tell you what we talked of last night?” Rowan fidgeted with the fabric of her dress as she addressed her fear. 

“That you agreed to stand in Halina’s place?” Balin cocked his eyebrow. “Aye, he did. Are you sure you’re ready for that, lassie? All that entails?”

“Well surely it can’t be that difficult, right?” Appetite gone, Rowan stood and walked over to the window. It was a sunny day, not a cloud in sight in the blue sky, and for the first time since she’d been in Erebor, she could actually see the grounds below. Her eyes found the stables, and she squinted. Was that Thorin she saw down there, leading a horse around in the corral by a rope? She leaned closer, her eyes trying to focus on him, but it was hard to tell, as he was so far away. But she would swear that was him. 

“It entails more than you think, lassie.” Balin’s voice interrupted her musing, and Rowan drew back from the window. “And I am not entirely sure you’re ready for it.” 

“What do you mean?” Rowan cast a worried look in his direction. “Cooking, cleaning. I know how to do all of that, no problem.”

“You will be in Thorin’s personal service, Rowan. Which means, you will assist him with anything he may need, to include cooking, cleaning his chambers and his clothes, helping him bathe and dress, helping him—"

“Wait, Balin!” Rowan clasped his arm. “What did you say?” 

Balin looked down at her arm, and frowned, and Rowan, realizing what she had done, jerked her hand back. Balin’s eyes met hers, and she didn’t miss the concern in his old eyes. 

“You are terrified of him. I saw it, just as if it were me feeling that,” Balin stated quietly. “I am sure you can still back out of this deal, Rowan. Either way, I think you will be fine. Thorin is a reasonable king. For the most part. There can be other ways. Would you like me to talk to him, find other work for you?” 

Rowan shook her head, and walked back over to the table so that she could sit. She folded her arms on the table and rested her forehead on them, food long forgotten. 

“He said I had to in order to keep Halina from being punished.” Rowan’s words were muffled. 

Balin followed, and sat before her in his chair, but couldn’t resist casting a discreet smile at her head. When she’d touched him a few moments ago, he’d seen more than Rowan simply being terrified of the king in that vision she’d given him… but he wouldn’t mention that to her. In fact, he wouldn’t mention it to anyone.

“I wish you’d eat more, lass.” Balin frowned at the nearly untouched bowl of food. 

“Not hungry anymore.” 

“Alright, if you’re not going to eat then we best get on with it.” Balin stood and pushed his chair in. “So, if you will follow me, I’ll show you what needs to be done in his room, as well as his laundry, and the preparation for his bath and his food. Thorin is out already, and I am not sure when he is to return as he is on official business with the Mirkwood king.” 

Rowan lifted her head up and blinked back at him with huge brown eyes that reminded him of a fawn that had been trapped and was trying to determine if it would die today or tomorrow. He smiled at her, trying to alleviate her fears.

“Tis nothing but a job, Rowan. We all have jobs to do.” He held out his hand to her. “Come, lassie. The day is wasting.”

Rowan stood, and both knew why she ignored Balin’s hand. She followed him down the hall, and into Thorin’s chambers. Her breath was held as they stepped across the threshold, and in the light of day, things looked much different. Unable to stop, her gaze traveled back over to the bed, back to where she’d seen Thorin lying, with naught but his britches on, that sheet dangerously low on his hips. Her cheeks flushed as she remembered the strength those great, big shoulders held, how coarse and dense the hair on his chest and taut stomach looked, how narrow his waist was, how—

“Are you alright, lassie?” Balin tilted his head at her. “Seems like you’re lost in the clouds.” 

“No! I’m fine,” Rowan squeaked. She clasped her hands at her breast and tried to calm the high-pitched tone of her voice. “I’m fine. You were saying?” 

Balin let it be and commenced to explaining what all needed to be done in Thorin’s room and bath area. That the king’s clothes needed to be washed and dried and ironed as needed. He showed her where various articles of clothing needed to be stored, in the closet or in Thorin’s storage chest. Where the royal tunics and vests for business were, and where his everyday work clothes were, and how to separate the two. Thorin’s boots needed to be cleaned regularly and rotated so that the wear would be even. How often to change the sheets, and where to take them to be washed and dried, as well as the blankets and pillows. Leaving Thorin’s room, Balin walked with Rowan through many parts of Erebor, showing her the kitchen where the food was prepared. He introduced her to Bombur and the other kitchen staff, the cooks and servers, the launderers and seamstresses, and cleaning crew, and Rowan was delighted to see Halina working in the kitchen, looking none the worse for wear. She wished she could talk to the dwarf, but she dared not break any rules, not when this arrangement was so new. The small smile, and hastily-mouthed “thank you” from Halina were enough to soothe Rowan’s fears about Thorin mistreating the maid. Just as he was going to take Rowan down to the stables to see where Thorin’s horses were kept, Balin was called away by someone needing help outside the gate, and Rowan had to be escorted back upstairs by one of the assigned guards. 

Back to Thorin’s room she was taken, and it was there that she would be for the rest of the day, and long into the night. 

She timidly stepped inside, and when the door closed behind her, she felt the weight of responsibility land on her shoulders in the heaviest of ways. It was so quiet in here, and she felt as if she shouldn’t even breathe out loud. There was a somberness about this room, something that commanded her respect, although there was touch of something else, something akin to sadness and despondency. It was a heavy room. And even though the room was currently a chaotic mess, she knew, as did everyone else, that this was the king’s chambers, and a sense of authority permeated the very fabric of this place, depsite its current state. Powerful masculinity practically dripped down the walls, almost as if Thorin himself were here. In many ways, his chambers were much like the whole of Erebor: a place, laid low by a dragon’s widespread destruction, and full of torn things and disarray from the battle, but still very much a place of power and majesty, even if it were right now just a skeleton of the grandeur that came before. 

She stepped over piles of clothes, empty bottles, and balled up scraps of paper. Her nose wrinkled with distaste as she saw the state of his bathroom. Why hadn’t Halina come in and cleaned, she wondered to herself. It looked like Thorin spent just enough time in here to catch a bit of sleep, change his clothes, and then he was gone again. Save for the copious amount of empty bottles of various alcohol, and occasional papers on his desk, it hardly looked like he spent time in here at all; This room didn’t look lived in, but rather occupied for brief, necessary moments.

She walked over to the table and sat down, so that she could have a moment to compose herself before she would begin, and gave a great sigh.There was so much to be done, and she didn't know when Thorin would be back. It could be today, tonight, tomorrow - no one seemed to know. Balin's only answer was to wait until Thorin relieved her before she went back to her room, and the fact that it could be just a matter of hours - or as much as a few days - irritated Rowan to no end. 

She gave herself a few more moments of self-pity and aggravation before she arose, and set out to begin cleaning...


	13. Chapter 13

Three days later, and Rowan was sat at the same table, with the same aggravation, and wallowing in the same self-pity. She looked around Thorin’s room for the umpteenth time, trying to determine if anything was amiss, but found that the entire space was almost impeccable. She’d been alerted that the king and company were enroute back to Erebor earlier that day, and she had made sure everything was as perfect as possible for his arrival. She hoped Thorin would come in, be pleased, and let her go on her way. 

_No such luck. _

The minutes passed and the hour grew late as night fell, and Thorin was still not home. Rowan did her best to stay awake, and she refused to go back to her room lest he show up and she was not there waiting as Balin had instructed she be. She stood up and walked around the room, wiggling her arms and hands and bending at the knees to try and pump some blood into her system, but it was no use. She was beyond exhausted. She sat down at Thorin’s desk, and tucked her legs up under her as she rested her head on her folded arms. She just needed to close her eyes, just for a few moments, and then she would be alright…

* * *

Thorin’s eyes narrowed on her as he entered his room late in the night. The room was illuminated with not only the fireplace, but the candles and lamps were all lit and he saw her, asleep at his desk. He closed the door behind him, loud enough to wake her. Startling at the loud noise, she nearly fell off his chair as she jumped up and tried to stand, and Thorin saw that her knees were wobbly under her. 

“My king.” Rowan addressed him with blurry eyes and messy hair, and she was sure she had a huge red mark on her face from how she’d been sleeping on her folded arms. She did her best to curtsey the way she’d been instructed by the maid, but the move was obviously foreign to her, and looked more like half-hearted bow. 

Thorin struggled to not laugh out loud at how ridiculous the girl looked. 

“Witch.” He rejoined, his eyes on her as he walked over to his desk and began to undo his belt. Rowan, seeing what he was doing, raced towards him, and grabbed at his buckle to help. Her fingers got tangled with his, and Thorin removed his hands as he frowned down at the top of her head. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“I’m taking off your belt, my king.” Rowan fumbled with the buckle, wiggling it in the most uncomfortable way as she tried to undo it. 

Thorin scowled as he pushed her hands away. “I can take off my clothes.” 

“It’s just, Halina said…to help you undress…” Rowan attempted to explain, but finished with a _“never mind, my king,”_ and bowed her head to await further orders. 

Thorin finished removing his belt and laid it on the table. His boots were next, and those he kicked off also near the table. Rowan gathered them and placed them at the far wall, next to the other pairs. He began unbuttoning his shirt. 

“You’ve been busy, I see.” 

“Yes, my king. I did as I was instructed.” Rowan answered, her voice soft and demure. 

Thorin walked around his now clean room, marveling at how thoroughly the girl had carried out her assigned tasks. It looked achingly like the Erebor of old. His clothes were all off the floor, and chairs righted and in their place. His desk was straightened, and there was a new bottle of ink, along with pens, set near the stack of parchment papers that she’d carefully organized into stacks. He walked over and ran his hand over the blankets on his freshly made bed. Pillows, sheets…All new. 

“Did you change these as well?”

“The ones from before, they were filthy. I thought it best to just toss them and get new ones.” Rowan’s eyes briefly met his before she looked down again. “My king.” 

“Indeed.” 

Thorin continued his trip around his room, his eyes missing nothing as he saw parts of the floor he hadn’t seen in a long time. The tapestries had been straightened and dusted off, everything was wiped clean, and overall, it just smelled…fresh. _Fresh and clean and new, like her,_ he thought, as his eyes went back to the witch. It was odd, seeing his room cleaned with the unmistakable womanly touch after having sat for so long. It was not as if he’d lived in filth his whole life, as he’d had a maid in Halina, both here before the dragon, and after in the Blue Mountains. And she worked well enough throughout this kingdom and that one, but he’d not allowed her in this room. Not once, nor would he ever. Truthfully, Halina was only allowed to stay on in Erebor at all due to being who she was – the sister of the only dwarrowdam Thorin had ever loved, Halla. He hated the reminder, but guilt wouldn't let him send Halina away as he wanted to. And Halla would never forgive him for not doing his best to take care of her sister.

_Halla. _

Thorin felt his heart clench with that disgusting self-hatred that seemed to come at the most inopportune times, a twisting, clawing demon that wanted to drag him back down into hell as it had so many times before, and he was reminded of yet another glaring failure. Another person he’d lost to that damned dragon. Another person who’d trusted him with their life, and another person he’d not been able to protect. He frowned as he pressed his fingers at the fresh pillow. 

“Did Halina advise you on all this?” 

“Yes, my king. She said she had served your family for a long time. She mentioned her sister as well, though I did not meet her.” Rowan answered.

Thorin’s head jerked up at those words, his flashing eyes set on Rowan as she watched him from across the room. Her soft features and warm eyes spoke of innocence, and so he would – for now – believe that she was being truthful at not knowing of Halla’s demise at the hands of that dragon. At his gaze on her for so long, she gave him a timid smile, and looked down again, leaving Thorin to wonder at so many things. He should send her away. _That’s what he should do,_ he thought to himself, but found the words to do so would not come.

It was odd to him, to have this girl haunt his dreams the way she had the past few days. Even stranger that he would find himself wondering what she was up to, and if she was eating. If she was still in Erebor, or if she’d tried to escape in his absence. The last time he saw her, she was so painfully thin that it lit a fire in him, and he made Balin swear that he would make her eat. That she would take better care of herself. It was why, on the first morning he was set to leave, he’d taken the bowl of porridge from Halina and barged into the witch’s room, to see if she was still there as she’d vowed to be. He heard her in the bathroom, and feeling like an utter arsehole for assuming otherwise, he’d hastily set the food down on the table and walked out. And now, for whatever reason only known to Mahal, to see her in his room, asleep at his desk as if she were waiting for him, had caused his heart to stutter in his chest. Guilt wracked his mind and heart and body, for he knew he should not be feeling this way towards anyone. 

He had been numb, for so very long. Until she came along and woke up his demons, and he didn’t know how he felt about it. He didn’t need this…_distraction_…nor did he want it. It was unsettling, and he didn’t care for it, not when he was still so unsure as to whether she was using some kind of witchery on him to sway his thoughts, or not. 

No one had ever been allowed in his room after he'd started seeing Halla, as she could be a mite bit jealous over him, and had insisted on taking care of Thorin in every way, to include cleaning his quarters. And since they'd had to keep it secret, due to Halla being a simple miner's daughter, and not of royal blood, the guise of her being Thorin's "maid" worked out perfectly. The only one that knew anything at all was Halina, but not even she'd been allowed in. Nor had any of the other maids been allowed. So why he’d added this task to the witch’s list of chores, he still couldn’t figure out. It had so easily slipped off his tongue when he was communicating to Balin what he wanted, and he was too out of sorts at the time to take it back. Strange. 

“Have you eaten, my king?” Rowan dared to ask. “I can fetch you some food, it will only take a minute.” 

“I’ve eaten already,” Thorin answered, more curtly than he intended, and he frowned when he saw Rowan drop her head in dejection. He walked to the table, and sat down with a great sigh. “Come, witch, have a seat and talk to me. I am in need of some conversation that doesn’t revolve around bloody war and land disputes and endless killing.” 

Rowan quickly made her way over to the table and stood there, not knowing what to do. Thorin nodded at the chair opposite him. “That chair. Sit in it. Now.” 

Rowan dropped down, keeping her head low as she stared at the wood of the table. It shone now, having been cleaned and shined after so many years of neglect, and she wistfully thought how much nicer it would look with a batch of fresh flowers atop it. She doubted Thorin would go for that, what with him having lived in a dark mountain for so very long. 

“Did you have any trouble accomplishing things?” Thorin began. He felt as awkward as he knew he probably sounded, and it was the strangest feeing for him, not knowing what to say to this girl. He glared at her bowed head, annoyed that she seemed to be hiding from him. “Lift your head. Look at me.”

Rowan did as he asked, and Thorin’s breath caught at seeing her so clearly, and so very close. Her face was freshly cleaned, clear of any bruises and marks, and her hair was braided in the custom of his people, into one long plait down her back. There were only a few wisps of errant tendrils curling about her forehead and nape, and Thorin fought back the urge to reach out and twist them ‘round his finger, to see if they were as soft as they appeared to be. Her hair, now washed and displayed properly, was different than he remembered, more of a deep chestnut color, with something akin to the color mahogany laced throughout. Her doe-like eyes were framed by thick lashes, and were almost too wide for a normal face, but on her, they seemed just perfect. Her eye color could be called amber, but to Thorin, they looked more like honey, warm and sweet, and made so much richer by the dancing light of the fire. Freckles dusted the bridge of her slightly-upturned nose…Those small dots, and her tanned skin a testament to her time spent outdoors. She was nothing short of enchanting, like a woodland fairy come to life, and Thorin couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“My king?” Rowan squirmed under his gaze, and found she had to look away. 

“Sorry. I was…thinking of work for a moment,” Thorin lied, giving a forced smile. Rowan cast worried eyes at him again, and seeing his smile, tried to offer her own, but found she fell short. She looked away again. Thorin’s smile faded, and he found himself getting even more vexed at her continued avoidance of him. 

“Is something about me offensive?” He queried, his voice a low rumble that made Rowan’s stomach do that weird flipping thing again. She fidgeted with her fingers in her lap, trying to figure out how to answer him without making a fool of herself. 

“No, my king, I just don’t know what I should say or do.” She answered him as truthfully as possible, but even that was false. How could she tell him the truth? That he both terrified and intrigued her? That while she’d dreams of him beating her, she’d also had dreams of him kissing her, and making it all better? Her heart thumped in her chest. Kissing. She’d never kissed a man before – _had no knowledge of intimate relations_ – and now she was having fantasies about a man that beat her senseless. What kind of insane person would fancy their abuser? Surely, she was losing her mind here in Erebor. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment, and she had to look away. Again. 

“Have you thought of killing me whilst I’ve been gone?” The unbothered tone of Thorin’s words shocked Rowan, and she choked on whatever small amount of spit she had in her mouth. When her eyes met the king’s she could see what she would like to believe was playfulness in his azure gaze, but she didn’t know him, and therefore couldn’t assume. And so, she sat, nervously squirming, and wringing her hands, and not knowing what to say. 

“No,” was all she managed to squeak out. 

“Liar.” Thorin countered, earning another furtive glance from Rowan. He decided to ease up on her. “I am only joking, witch.” He placed his hands on the table before him as if he’d decided something very important. “Come. You will help me bathe. I know it’s late, but I don’t want to mess up that clean bed with my filthy body.”

With that decree, Thorin stood up and began undoing his shirt. He knew he was traipsing around dangerous territory with her, but right now, in this moment, he cared not. For whatever reason, he enjoyed her company, and he wasn’t quite ready to let her retire to her room. He wasn’t ready for the deafening silence that came every night and weighed so heavily on him. As well, he was stronger than this girl, and besides, she had agreed to do this job, and do it she would. He started to toss his shirt on the floor, carelessly, but remembered that she had cleaned, and instead took it with him to his bathroom and placed it in the basket for dirty clothes. Rowan followed him, her eyes at her feet. 

“The tub won’t fill itself.” 

“I’m sorry! My king!” Rowan mumbled as she scrambled to the tub and began pumping the water as Halina had shown her in the kitchen. All the pumps seemed to operate the same way. The tub filled up with warm water pumped from below the great forges, and soon, the bath was filled and ready. When it was done, she stood up, and not knowing where to look, looked over at Thorin. 

He had just stepped out of his pants, and now he was naked. Completely. She clapped a hand on her mouth and turned around, her cheeks heating with embarrassment as she tried to remove his image from her brain. Thorin saw her reaction, and his deep frown reappeared.

“You are offended by my body.” Thorin stated, a hint of aggravation underlying his words.

“No, my king. It is not that.” Rowan hugged herself. 

“Then pray tell what it is about me that causes you to look away so often,” Thorin spoke from behind her, and Rowan shivered at his close proximity. It was almost as if she could feel his body heat, could feel his body, right next to hers. And she had the knowledge that he was naked. His voice came closer, deeper. 

Thorin stared down at the back of her slim neck, at where her hair had rebelliously escaped from the braid and stuck at her nape and wondered why he was so close to her. It was truly a dangerous game he was playing, though he found it hard to stop. “We have discussed this, witch. When I ask, you answer.” 

“I have never seen a na-…naked….a naked man before.” Rowan’s embarrassment grew as she stumbled over her words. 

“Really?” Thorin couldn’t help himself as he reached out and twirled one of those tendrils about his finger. The strand had grown curly in the steam of the bathroom, and he idly wondered if all her hair would curl when it was wet. He saw that she flinched when his finger brushed against her nape, and he frowned with displeasure. She was trembling, whether from fear or what, he did not know. 

“Really. My parents…they…. we were very sheltered.” Rowan explained. No reply came from Thorin, and she was relieved when she felt him pull back. Her shoulders dropped some of their tenseness, and a few moments later, she heard the gentle splash of water, and knew he’d entered the tub. Thank goodness! She breathed out a great big sigh of relief, but it was short-lived at best. 

“Come, help me with my hair, witch,” Thorin beckoned her over. Rowan demurely walked to the tub, keeping her eyes on anything but that dwarf in that tub. Thorin couldn’t contain the huff of a laugh that escaped him at seeing how uncomfortable she was. “All I ask is you help with my hair. Someone stabbed me in my shoulder, and it still gives me grief, making it difficult to reach up. After that, I’ll leave you be.” 

Rowan gave a rueful frown, knowing she needed to accept responsibility for that, as she’d been the one to stab him there, after all. She knelt at the side of the tub, grateful that it was so tall that she could hardly see his body save for his shoulders and head. 

He leaned his head back against the tub edge and closed his eyes. “And besides, you are much too young to know the ways of the world, and I am much too old to be the one to introduce you, so do not worry about that with me.” 

“I am not a child! How old do you think I am?” Rowan’s head jerked up, annoyed at his assumption. At seeing his brows raised, she dropped her head again. “I’m sorry, my king. It’s just…I am not so young as you assume, however limited my knowledge of this world is.” 

“Tell me then. How old are you?” Thorin grabbed a bar of soap and began scrubbing down. Rowan fiddled with a towel. 

“I was 8 when the dragon attacked the first time, my king.” 

Thorin stopped washing, and turned around to pin her with a puzzled stare. “You were 8 years old when Erebor was first attacked?” 

“Yes, my king,” Rowan nodded. She was wringing her hands at her waist, nervously, and she had no idea where she should look: At his face? At his chest? Or close her eyes and pretend she wasn’t here at all? 

“So, then you are upwards of 179 years old?” Thorin couldn’t hide the disbelief in his voice. 

“Yes, my king.” 

“How is that possible? Humans don’t live that long, unless they are of the Dúnedain, and even then, that is a long life span. And you are no elf, nor are you a dwarf.” 

“The women of my family have always been long-lived, my king,” Rowan shrugged. “I don’t know why, and it was never questioned. It just was.” 

“Interesting,” was all Thorin could say at the moment. He turned back around and resumed washing his body. This girl – no woman – hardly looked old enough to be out from her father’s care, yet here she was, almost as old as him. How on earth was this possible? 

“My king?” Rowan timidly asked. “What do I do?” 

“Grab that soap, help me with my hair, and then you are free to go.” Thorin leaned forward so that the girl could assist with his hair. He rested his arms on the tub edge and closed his eyes. This was no different than any other maid washing his hair, and he would do well to remember that. Little good that did him, though, for his eyes jerked open the moment her dainty fingers threaded through his locks, and he couldn’t stop the grunt that escaped when she began gently scrubbing at his scalp. She pulled her hands back, afraid she’d messed up and hurt him. 

“I’m sorry. I’ve never washed anyone’s hair except my own. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she apologized. She was trying desperately not to look down at his broad back revealed by the way he was sitting. Thorin reached over his shoulder and grabbed her hand, staying her from moving. She was shaking, again. 

“It was a bend in my neck. Nothing you did. Please continue.” He released her hand, and settled back against the tub. 

For the next few moments, Rowan did her best to pick out pieces of dirt and debris, to clean his strands, and not stare over his shoulders at his naked body, or down his back. Thorin did his best to not reveal his steadily-growing erection and had to cover himself with a hand at his groin, which was thankfully hidden under the bubbles from the soap. In short, it was the most awkward bath ever, and both parties were ready for it to be over long before they were done. 

“I’ll finish. You may go.” Thorin’s voice was gruff as he sat forward and tugged his hair from her grasp. Baths were supposed to relax you, but he was more tense than he was comfortable with at this very moment, and he really just needed her to leave. 

“You don’t want me to help you—”

“I said you may go!” Thorin interrupted her, much more harshly than he anticipated. 

“Yes, my king,” came Rowan’s hushed reply, and a moment later, she was gone, having let herself out of the bathroom. 

Thorin finished washing up, and when he felt he’d sufficiently calmed down, he crawled out of the tub and dried himself off. As he usually did, he didn’t bother wearing a towel as he waked back into his room to fetch his clothes and was highly surprised when he heard a yelp come from the witch at seeing him stark naked. Again. 

“Why the hell are you still in here?” Thorin roared as he hastily covered himself with the towel. Rowan had covered her face with her hands, and had turned around to stare at his wall. 

“You didn’t tell me I could go back to my room, my king.” 

“I said, you were free to go, did I not?” Thorin angrily jerked his pants on, and buttoned them. He pulled his hair off his neck and clasped it with a bead until he could comb through it. 

“I did not know you meant to my room!” Rowan barked back. 

Shocked, and amused, Thorin watched her struggle with trying to be submissive to him and couldn’t prevent his smirk when she followed with a quietly – _and reluctantly_ \- mumbled, “my king”. 

“Come here, witch.” 

With a sigh, Rowan turned around, though her eyes were trained solely on the floor. 

“I am dressed, worry not.” Thorin dropped down into his chair. Rowan looked up, seeing he was only wearing pants, and hastily looked away again. 

“So, you have never seen a bare chest before, either?” Thorin’s brow quirked up. Rowan stopped before his desk, looking very much like a child summoned to be given some punishment. 

“I have, but they were my family.” She took in a deep breath, her eyes still averted. “What else do you require of me, my king?” 

“You wish to go back to your room.”

She nodded. “I do.” 

“I would have a word with you, about…our first meeting.” He tilted his head at the chair sat at the side of his desk. “Please, sit.” 

Rowan did as he asked, though she continued looking down. 

“Did you mean to kill me the first time we met? In your house, when I found my nephew. Did you mean to kill me, and only me?” 

“Yes.” Rowan nodded at her hands. 

“Because your family died?”

“They died because you awoke that dragon,” Rowan whispered. Her throat was constricting with pain at the memories, and she fought the urge to wipe at her eyes. Why was he bringing this up now? She had just gotten a handle on all of this, and was committed to seeing this “imprisonment” through until she could be free, and now he had to go and bring it back up. 

“Look at me, witch.”

“Please, can I just—” 

“I said, look at me.” Thorin’s voice had risen with authority. 

Rowan looked up, her teary eyes meeting Thorin’s, and the dwarf king felt immediate regret at making her feel so bad. Before he thought better of it, he had reached out, and cupped her jaw in his hand, and had used his thumb to catch the tear before it rolled down her cheek. 

“I have also lost family in this endeavor.” Thorin could not stop caressing her cheek, and Rowan just sat there, blinking back at him. “And, I am sorry that you feel I treated you so badly when you first arrived in Erebor. You must understand, I was doing what I thought I must in order to protect my family.” 

Angered at his explanation, and the air of superiority that she felt in his touch, Rowan jerked away from him. 

“Is that supposed to be some kind of apology?” She was practically spitting. “You beat me. Even after I told you the truth, you beat me. You stripped me bare, and treated me like dirt under your boot. I still have the marks to show for it. And all I did was try to help Kili.”

“Mind your tongue, witch,” Thorin warned. 

“Or what?” Rowan snapped. “You’ll hit me again?” 

Thorin stood, his chair tipping over as he arose so abruptly and rushed around the desk to her. Rowan closed her eyes, and braced for impact, knowing she’d pushed him too far. When nothing came, she opened her eyes very slowly, and saw that he was stood in front of her, his chest heaving, and fists clenched at his side until his knuckles had turned white. She was shaking, terrified that he’d hit her, or do something worse. 

“You forget your place, witch.” Thorin’s words rolled over her, along with the scent of his body soap and cleanliness, and all that overwhelming masculinity. Rowan swallowed, focusing her eyes on the wildly pounding pulse at the base of his corded neck. 

“This is not my place.”

“It is until I say otherwise,” came the king’s haughty reply. 

“You may order me here and there, or wherever the hell else. To wash your clothes and fix your food, and make your bed, but this will never be my place. I will never willingly stay under your thumb. This is a duty, nothing more.” She tipped her chin up, her watery eyes focused on the wound she’d given him at his shoulder. "And when I've fulfilled my duty, you will let me go, and I will leave, never to think of you, or this place, ever again."

“Get out.” Thorin hissed. 

Without another word, Rowan exited the king’s chambers, and was escorted back to hers by the guard. Once inside, she railed into her pillow, screaming and cursing him with all manner of obscenities she could think of, until finally, she fell into an exhausted heap on the bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, trying to get into everyone's heads here! I hope the timeline works as far as Smaug's attacks, and it's not good story without some angst, amirite?? 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think, good or bad. But hopefully not too bad hehehe


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning, Rowan was ready and dressed long before sunrise, having spent yet another night tossing and turning, running from nightmares and dreams, the majority of them focused solely on Thorin Oakenshield. He was an insufferable ass, stubborn, and proud, and ridiculously arrogant. Rowan shook her head as she stared at the window to see the hustle below. 

How obnoxious of him to say that he was sorry _she_ was feeling mistreated? **_She had been mistreated!_** There was no arguing that, and she wanted to punch him in his face for assuming that the burden should fall on her for feeling a certain way! She chewed another fingernail, her rage simmering just below the surface, much as it had been since she’d left him last night. She was even more aggravated knowing the bastard had probably gone straight to sleep after, with not a care in the world for her feelings or her situation. 

She watched as dwarfs entered the mountain and exited, towing wagons laden with supplies and such. It was bustling, this industrial place, and struck her as cold and detached and entirely too busy.

She was struggling for more than the obvious reasons, and it was difficult for her to reconcile this life with the one she’d grown up in. Her family was so tightly-knit, so closely bonded, and they spent the majority of their time together - just the five of them. Arguments were quickly squashed and hurts were swiftly soothed. No one went to bed angry. She could never remember her father and mother having arguments that led to screaming and shouting, least not like she’d heard in Dale and Lake-Town. The few times she’d been to visit the cities with her father, she’d seen the differences in her family and those. It was the first time she’d heard any type of foul language, the obscenities that could turn your cheeks red with embarrassment. It was the first time she’d seen husband and wife argue, and a child get slapped in the face for back-talking or not behaving. When Rowan had asked, her mother had explained that other families did things differently, but it wouldn’t change the way Rowan’s family was run. 

Rowan took one hand and stared down at her fingers, inspecting them as if seeing them for the first time. A thought, one she’d had for the first time after that visit to Lake-Town and Dale. The thought had grown in her mind after those interactions she'd had with families that sought out her mother's help, and the thought had now had resurfaced during her time in Erebor. The longer she stayed, the harder she found it was to remove it from her mind, and the harder it was becoming not to question it. 

Her family was her norm, for as long as she remembered. They were happy, and they were loving, and they were kind. All the things other families appeared not to be. 

The gift of touch. The way to feel someone, and in turn, have them feel you and respond accordingly. Her mother and her sister, distant aunts and cousins - all the women in the family had this gift to some degree. The men did not. And Rowan had seen firsthand the effect it could have on others when she touched them. She gnawed at her nail again as the thought reared its ugly head. 

The guilt wracked her as she gave life to the notion: What if everything about her childhood was a lie? _Well_, she hastily corrected, _not a lie, but pretended? _False? What if her mother and father would have argued -_should have argued_\- but her mother used her touch to calm her father, and therefore avoided the fights? What if she prevented the discord from ever happening? Was that right to do that? Being in Erebor, she’d seen cruelty and meanness and hatred. She’d felt it herself, when she’d never felt it before. Thorin Oakenshield was mean. If she could sway him with her touch, would he have behaved differently? 

Of course he would've, and because of that, he would've never sought out the answers from her, and then the vengeance he felt he was owed. She would have made him stop. 

Her brows drew together with unease, stressed about this train of thought, and feeling sick at her stomach for questioning her family in such a way. Her mother, more specifically. She couldn’t help but think that her family had somehow failed her in preparation for the world outside their small fenced-in property, and she couldn’t decide if it was well-intentioned, or intentional, or accidental, or what. Had she stayed in her home with her family forever, things would have been fine. But what if she had ever ventured out beyond their boundaries, and sought a life of her own? She would have been as ill-prepared then as she was now. And she didn't know how she felt about it, now that she was faced with that very reality, but she knew she could not keep looking at the world the way she had been raised. 

_But how did one work this out in their head? _

A knock came at her door, and moments later, Balin entered. 

“Balin!” Rowan stepped away from the windowsill and came to him with a smile. “Good morning.” She eyed the stack of clothes in his arms. “What are those?” 

“Uh…good morning, Miss Rowan. And these, well they are…’Tis your new duty, lass.” The old dwarf cleared his throat and pressed the clothes towards her. “Apparently the king is not happy with the cleaning of his chambers, and would rather you…erm….clean the stables instead.” 

Rowan’s mouth dropped open, then closed, then dropped open again as she began to sputter. Balin looked mighty uncomfortable and could do nothing but give her a helpless look. Refusing to let Thorin win, Rowan forced herself to smile and took the clothes from the advisor. 

“Very well. If he wants me to clean the stables, then so be it.” She widened her smile with great effort. “I’d rather be around horses any day than have to spend any amount of time in his company. Be right back.” She disappeared into the bathroom, and moments later, was redressed, this time in pants and a long tunic. She tied one side of the tunic at her waist to keep it from reaching her knees. 

“Do I get boots? Or should I muck the stalls in my bare feet?” Rowan asked, hands on hips. Balin sighed. 

“Come now, lassie. Don’t be too put out. You are being allowed to go outside, which I thought would please you greatly. And yes, I’ve got boots, though I’m not sure they’ll fit you.” He handed her het boots. “You can thank our burglar for these clothes and boots. You're about the size of a hobbit, truth be told.” 

“You’re right. I can’t wait to get out of this mountain.” She slipped on the boots, and pushed her sleeves up above her elbows, ready to work. “And I’d like to meet this burglar, and thank him for the clothes.” 

“Very good. And Rowan, I know you know this, but please, don’t try anything whilst outside these walls. There’s armed guards everywhere, and if you try—”

“Thorin will kill me. Yes, yes I know.” Rowan hastily finished, and Balin blanched at her use of the king’s name so casually. He didn’t address it, though, and soon, they were down at the stables. 

Balin took her throughout the stables, showing her where the pitchfork and extra hay was located, but Rowan was only paying half-attention. She had stopped before an open door and peered out at into the paddock, her eyes wide open at what she was seeing. War rams, a dozen of them at least. She had been told stories of the great war rams of Erebor, those hardy beasts that were ridden by the dwarves into battle, but she’d not really believed it to be true. The little goats and sheep she’d had back at home seemed like miniatures in comparison to these great hairy, beasts with their massive curled horns. She was in a state of shock, never having seen a creature like this before. 

“Can you ride them?” She reached through the fence and held her hand out, smiling as the closest ram sniffed her fingers, but then dismissed her in favor of some hay that had been tossed in. Would stand to reason that these goats would also be as haughty and self-important as their owner. 

“Aye, they are ridden in war, lassie, but I’d caution you not to try. Don’t even enter the stall, as they can be fickle bastards. And very dangerous. Reserved for only the strongest of our warriors.” Balin advised. “You are not responsible for these stalls, though. Only the ponies.” 

“You have ponies?” Rowan’s turned to him, her face lit up with happiness, and Balin nodded. 

“Come, Rowan. I’ve a surprise for you.” Balin walked a ways off, and Rowan gave one last look at the rams before she followed him. The guards followed, ever watchful. Balin stopped near the back of the stables, at the far end, and pointed. 

“We’ve got 13 ponies, and all of them are gentle, so they shouldn’t give you any trouble.” Balin stepped inside one of the stalls, and moments later, reappeared, leading a small, white pony by its harness. Rowan’s face erupted with happiness and she couldn’t contain her squeal of joy. 

“Lily!” 

The pony flicked her mane up in happiness, and Rowan threw caution to the wind as she entered the stall to greet her pony. She nuzzled the pony’s soft hair, running her fingers through the mane. She’d been taken care of, it seemed. Her coat gleamed around her plump belly, her hooves appeared freshly shod, and her beautiful snow-white tail was braided in the way of the dwarves.

“How did she get here?” Rowan asked, a little misty-eyed at seeing her friend after so long. Lily was the only member of her family left, and she was beyond happy to see the horse. 

“She was brought in with you,” Balin answered plainly. 

“Thorin,” Rowan muttered, unwilling to let that dwarf take away any of her happiness. 

“Aye. He brought her in with you, and has had her looked after ever since.” Balin patted a hand at the pony’s neck. “He could have left her, at your home. He could have left her there to fend for herself.” 

Rowan pressed her face at Lily’s neck, and hugged her. “Don’t try and pretend he brought her back for any reason other than he’s selfish and likes to hoard things, Balin. He wants complete control in everything, and for him, Lily was just another thing in his collection.” 

“So your opinion of Thorin Oakenshield remains low, I take it?” 

“As low as it can be,” Rowan muttered.

She was tired of talking about him, and to be honest, wanted to forget him. Without waiting for Balin to order her, she began working, mucking out one stall after the next, and replacing it with fresh hay. At some point, Balin left to go handle other business, and Rowan found herself alone, cleaning out stalls while the two annoying guards kept watch from a safe distance. It became easy to tune them out the longer she worked around the ponies. At first, she was annoyed that Thorin had condemned her to the stables, but now, after feeling the sun on her face, and the wind in her hair, she could not be more thankful that he’d fired her from cleaning his blasted room. He could clean it himself, for all she cared. When she was about half-way through, she let the guards know that she would be taking a break, and with Lily at her side, made her way out to the empty corral at this end of the stables. She sat on an overturned bucket and watched as her pony munched happily on some grass, and it was there that Kili found her. 

“Good morning, Rowan.” 

“Kili!” Rowan smiled up the dark-haired dwarf. “I’ve wondered how you were.” 

Kili pulled up at stool, and sat at her side. “We’ve been busy with these orcs raiding. And negotiations with Mirkwood have been tenser than we expected.” The young dwarf rubbed a hand at his neck. “How've you been? I...ugh...heard you were fired from being my uncle’s assistant.”

Rowan snorted. “Fired? Relieved is a better word for that, and believe me, 'twas a blessing, indeed.” 

Kili huffed out a laugh, earning a small giggle from Rowan, and the two sat in companionable silence for a time, watching the pony graze.

“You seem to be in better spirits out here, out of the mountain.” Kili observed with a sideways glance. “And you get on well with the ponies.” 

“She is mine,” Rowan nodded at Lily. “Your uncle took her when he took me. The day he came to get you. He stole her.” Kili looked at the pony, then back at Rowan. She nodded. “It’s true.” 

“He must’ve had good reason to take her. A small pony like her, wouldn’t last long out in the wild, not when it’s been raised up by its people.” Kili shook his head. “I’m sure uncle had his reasons.” 

“You know, I really don’t understand why everyone makes excuses for the things he does.” Rowan dismissed with a flick of her hand. 

“He carries a heavy weight, Rowan. One that I don’t think you can understand, given your simple upbringing.” Kili scratched at his pants legs, seeming nervous. “Thorin was not always this way, so closed off and angry and hateful. He’s become a shell of his former self. I don't remember much, but I remember my uncle in happier times. When he was happy. When we were happy and visiting him in the Blue Mountains with my mother, when Fili and I were but young dwarflings. He was much different then. Happier.” 

Rowan said nothing, only lifting her chin a bit as she frowned. So Thorin had a sister, also. Where she was, Rowan wondered, but did not ask. 

“The gold below Erebor. It’s sick, Rowan. I don’t know how to explain it, but my great-grandfather, he was sick with it. I’ve heard tales, and Balin can further explain, but he was very, very sick. So sick that it overwhelmed him. It was that sickness that destroyed Erebor and our family, just as sure as if it were the dragon alone.” Kili’s voice had grown gruff. “And now, my uncle, he is also sick.” Kili turned sorrowful eyes at Rowan, but then quickly looked away. “He tries to pretend, you see, that he’s not going mad, but I’ve seen it. During the battle, he was content to stay in the mountain and let our kin die, so long as that damned gold was safe. And I thought he was better, he seemed better. But losing my brother, and all of this? I see that same look in his eyes again. Glimpses of it. That same obsession he had earlier, Rowan. I see it in him, and I am fearful for his sanity.”

At hearing the tears in Kili’s voice, Rowan reached out and enveloped his hand with hers. 

“Don’t try and change my feelings,” Kili quipped, trying to smile through his sadness. Rowan squeezed his hand, smiling even though her own throat had grown tight. It was hard not to be empathetic. Even with Thorin. It was hard to marry all this knowledge with the dwarf king she knew, and she had much to think about. 

“I’m not. I won’t try and change anything. I just want you to know that I’m here with you, and I’m sorry for all your family has gone through.” 

“I’m not asking you to forgive him, or us, but just to try and understand. To see that things aren’t always as they seem.” 

“I’ll try, Kili.” Rowan squeezed his hand again and bumped her shoulder against his. They sat a few more moments and the dwarf spoke again. 

“I would like you to have dinner with us tonight, Rowan. Down in the great hall. I want to introduce you to Tauriel.” Kili’s eyes shone with an unmistakable happiness, and his adorable dimple had reappeared. He really was a handsome dwarf. 

“You love her.” 

“Stop spying on me,” Kili teased, squeezing her hand for emphasis. 

“I don’t have to touch you to see how happy just saying her name made you.” Rowan’s smile faded. “I don’t think your uncle will allow me downstairs. I am a prisoner, after all.” 

“You are no prisoner, Rowan. Believe me, if uncle wanted you imprisoned, you would be.” The dwarf stood and pulled her up with him. “Trust me. I’ll convince him. I’ll come fetch you for dinner, so be ready when night falls.” 

* * *

**Elsewhere….**

Thorin was down amongst the gold, enclosed in the great hall that was still overflowing with wealth and abundance beyond all measure. Even after sending the portions owed to Bard and his people, and returning the gems to the woodland king, there was more than enough gold to last ten-thousand lifetimes. He lifted a handful of coins – _his coins_ –a smirk on his face as the golden circles dripped through his fingers and landed back in the pile with a joyous clatter. He was at the very edge, his eyes roving over his treasure with an almost drunken high. 

Gold beyond measure. Beyond sorrow and grief, and past all pain. 

He stepped off the platform at the end of the staircase, and delved further into the treasure horde, searching for what he knew not. In his right hand he carried a bottle of ale, half-drunk, and warmer than he liked. But he’d drink it, nevertheless. That and the gold, as of late had been his constant companions, his saving grace when the outside world was gone to shit. Balin had asked him not to come down here. Dwalin refused to speak to him due an argument they had. He was losing the respect of his family and kin. He knew he was sick, but he also knew in this moment that he didn’t care. They didn't understand what he was going through. They had not the cares he had. He sat down on a chair, covered with rich velvet, and adorned with rubies and emeralds and sapphires.

A chair fit for a king. 

He reached up, fiddling with the crown of Erebor, adjusting it to fit better and reminded himself of who he was and what he was about. It was that witch that had put him in such a foul mood.

_Who was she to question his authority? To try and make him feel sorry when he did not? To seek an apology when he’d done nothing wrong? _

_Who the hell did she think she was? _

** _Who the hell did she think he was? _ **

He took a great big gulp of ale, wincing at the burn as he forced it down. 

A ruby caught his eye, and he was reminded of her. Of Halla. She loved rubies. Above all else, rubies were her favorite gems. Thorin fell on his knees and grabbed at the ruby, clutching it in his fist as he rested his back against the chair, the gem held against his chest. 

**Failure. **

The word haunted him, teased him. Lurked at the frayed edges of his sanity and threatened to drag him under, to pull him down deeper than he already was. 

It was his fault that she'd died. He’d gone after his grandfather instead of ensuring Halla was safe as she’d begged him to do. She’d pleaded with him to come with her, to see her safe, but he’d denied her, and had gone instead to fetch his grandfather first. Had he just taken her beyond the edge of Erebor, she’d still be with him today. 

_But how could have known?_ the clearer part of his mind argued. How could he have known that by forsaking her for his grandfather, that she would be lost? Thorin snorted in derision. It was the same tired argument he’d had over and over about those he’d lost – that it wasn’t his fault, that he’d done the best he could, and so on and so forth. Thorin didn’t care for any of it, because the truth of the matter was that he’d failed. At the end of the day, when everything was done, it was his failure as a son, grandson, uncle, and lover, that had led to the death of so many that he cared about. 

He’d failed. 

What choice had he had, except to choose one person he loved over another? A split-second decision, one small moment in his life, and everything had changed. And obviously he’d made the wrong choice, no matter what he’d chosen, as his grandfather and Halla had both died anyway. His grandfather, his father, his nephew. His love. All gone, and for what? He fingered the ruby, turning it over in his palm, wondering why he’d been allowed to linger, when all he wished for a was a swift death. He would forever curse Oin and that she-elf for bringing him back to life after he’d died. Why hadn't they just let him go. Why had he been allowed to survive, when so many that he cared about had not? 

“For nothing,” he whispered to himself and the piles of gold. The gold sparkled, beckoning him deeper into its depths, and Thorin, on his knees, crawled in further. 

_Not for nothing,_ the gold whispered, coaxing the king further into its cold, welcoming embrace. 

Down here, he had no judgment. He had no nightmares that woke him up, night after night, leaving him clawing and grasping for air, and reaching for a helping hand that would never come. He would never get to Fili in time. He would never find Halla. He would never reach Azog before his grandfather was beheaded. He would never make it in time for any of them, and that was the reason he was terrified to close his eyes. Every night, he saw the same damn things, over and over and over, and he was tired. He pinched the bridge of his nose and released a heavy sigh. Mahal, was he tired, and he just wanted the images to go away, and wanted the pain in his chest to stop. The only relief he found was down here, amongst these cold coins and sparkling trinkets. He didn’t have the crippling fear that came with waking each day, not knowing who he’d lose today, or tomorrow, or the next day. What decision he’d have to make that would put someone in peril. Who he’d have to choose between, and who he’d lose to death. 

Down here, he had no failures, and saw only success. Piles and piles of visible success, great heaps of achievement, and accomplishments measured as the hoard continued to grow. The further he retreated into the gold, the less pain he felt. The more he was able to distance himself from the outside world, the less it bothered him, and mercifully, the less he thought about it. Nothing mattered down here, save for the gold. 

All that mattered was the gold. 


	15. Chapter 15

True to his word, Kili was knocking on Rowan’s door just as the sun set behind the clouds. Rowan had redressed, and knowing it was dinner, she had reluctantly settled on one of the gowns that hung in her wardrobe. She frowned at herself in the mirror. She hated dresses. 

Hated them. 

They were uncomfortable and were too easily tangled around her legs, especially these dresses that were much too large for her frame at the moment. Balin had asked that Halina come and bring Rowan some undergarments, to include panties and a semi-supportive corset, but Rowan had forgone that contraption for some fabric that she was currently using to to bind her breasts. Luckily, she wasn’t near as endowed as Halina was, and could make do with binding rather than wearing that stupid bulky corset thing. Halina had combed and braided Rowan’s hair again, but had remained silent the entire time, much to Rowan’s dismay. 

“Are you ready?” Kili’s smile was hugely bright, and Rowan couldn’t hide her own appreciative smile. She was surprised that Thorin had allowed this, but she wasn’t going to question it. 

“So, you get all fancy when your lady shows, but not for me?” She smirked as she stepped forward, admiring her dwarf friend’s vividly blue tunic and dark pants. She sweetly pressed his collar, ensuring that the edges were smoothed. “You look great, Kili. Tauriel is a lucky lady.” 

“I am so nervous. I haven’t seen her since the battle…” Kili’s countenance darkened, and Rowan knew he was thinking of his lost brother. She rested her palm at his scruffy cheek and smiled up at him, forcing away his sadness in lieu of some happier thoughts. 

“Your brother is at peace, Kili. Let him rest. I did not know him, but I know that he wouldn’t want you to cry for him. You are allowed to be happy.” 

“You’re right. I know you’re right.” Kili nodded, and discreetly wiped at his eyes. “It’s hard. Moving on.” 

“I know it is.” Rowan gave her own watery smile. “Believe me, I know. But you can’t stay stuck on ‘what was’ forever. If you do, you’ll never see what could be.” 

“I think you should take your own advice,” Kili quipped as he held out his arm for her to take. Rowan hesitated, looking down at her outfit. 

“Should I be wearing this dress? I feel like I look ridiculous in it. Like I’m being presumptuous.” She tugged at her oversized bodice and pulled it up closer to her neck. The gown was much too revealing for her liking, and she would prefer to be wearing a long tunic and pants. 

“It’s just dinner, and you’re my guest. It’s not a ball. You look great. And we are going to be late, so come Rowan.” Kili made his way to the door, opened it, and held out his arm for her. 

"Kili, you know I'm a prisoner, and not a guest, right?" She couldn't resist voicing her concerns. Kili frowned at her, and wiggled his arm impatiently. 

"Well tonight, you're my guest, so Uncle Thorin can stuff it. Now come, Tauriel is waiting. Uncle won’t let her about Erebor just yet.”

All Rowan could do was raise an eyebrow at that, not even a little bit surprised at the king under the mountain. 

* * *

Once they’d made it downstairs, Rowan was rethinking everything. It was overwhelming, and there were so many dwarves. For the most part, Kili and Tauriel didn’t leave her side, and it was easy to pretend she was just another member of Erebor, but the two guards that Thorin had still following her reminded her that she was not yet free as she’d like. The only saving grace was the king himself was not there, and so because of that, she was able to relax at least somewhat. She met the other members of Thorin’s Company and shared many laughs with them as she listened to them recount tales from their travels. Bofur was by far the funniest of them, and Ori was the sweetest. Dwalin appeared to still hate her, and kept his distance, staring daggers at her from across the table. And Bifur, well, he was something altogether different. The burglar, a hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins was there, and she thanked him for his clothes, and he agreed to share more if needed. Tauriel was as beautiful and graceful as Rowan had imagined she would be, and she loved Kili as much as the dwarf loved her, and to see them together made Rowan's heart swell with happiness. Rowan didn’t get to spend much time with the elf, though, as Kili took her from the hall as soon as was politely possible. Rowan remained near Balin, eating her fill, and watching in wonder, as the dwarves of Erebor drank copious amounts of alcohol and consumed so much food. She had heard tales of the celebrations dwarves had, but had never experienced one in person, and by the time the night grew long, more than one dwarf was passed out in their cups or sleeping on the floor. Balin had given Rowan a wink and a smile as she’d asked to go upstairs, with the promise that they would spend more time together in the following days. 

She would not be so lucky, though, for just as she was to enter her room, a different guard spoke to her guards, and Rowan was redirected to Thorin’s room. She tried to ask what was happening, but was ignored, and before she knew it, she was in the king’s room. She stood by his door, awkwardly, remembering their last meeting a few days past, and feeling incredibly nervous. What could he possibly want?

Thorin was sat in the great chair by his fireplace, his head held in his hands, and she could see that his face was contorted in a grimace. 

“I have a headache. I was told by Kili that you could prepare something for it. And as Oin is indisposed at the moment, I would like for you to handle it.” He flicked a hand at his desk. “There is your satchel of items. Prepare something.” 

“You would trust me to make you a concoction?” Rowan huffed out a laugh, shocked that he would trust her so. She sobered, and followed it with a hasty _“my king”_ when Thorin looked up to glower at her. 

“Are you implying that you’re going to try and kill me with said concoction?” 

“Didn’t say that. My king.” Rowan’s brow quirked, but nevertheless she began rummaging through her bag of medicinal herbs, delighted to see that all was still there, and in good order. It didn’t appear to have been touched since the last time she’d seen it. 

“What is taking so long?” Thorin grouched after a few moments of silence. 

“I have to prepare it from the leaves. And then, I’ll make you a tea so that it will take affect more quickly," Rowan replied. She had mashed up some extracts and was now waiting for the water to heat by the fire. It was lucky for Thorin that he had a kettle nearby, and a jug of water, otherwise he’d be chewing the mix, and she was sure his royal highness would have griped about that even more so. She poured the herbal mixture into the water, stirring it with a spoon, and carried it over to the king to offer it to him. 

He looked at the cup, and then up at her, his brilliantly blue eyes so very wary. Rowan gave him a half-smile. 

“I’m not going to kill you. I promise.” 

“You drink some first,” Thorin tipped his head at the cup. Smirking at his blatant paranoia, Rowan brought the cup to her lips, and took a sip; Her eyes never left his. When she was done, she presented it to him again. He took it, giving her one last look of unease, and then downed the whole thing in one go. He immediately began gagging and coughing as his eyes watered. 

“That tea is meant to be sipped, not gulped. It is very strong.” Rowan smugly informed as she took the cup from his hands. 

“You might have said so!” Thorin snapped at her, and Rowan did her best to hide her grin as she tucked her chin. She began cleaning up, replacing her items in the satchel, and hoping she could leave now that she’d fulfilled her duty. 

“If this works, and I don’t die in my sleep, be prepared to make more.” Thorin continued grouching. “I have been getting worse and worse headaches as of late, and nothing relieves them. That shit Oin makes does nothing for my pain.” 

“Maybe you should stop drinking so much,” Rowan muttered under her breath, grimacing when she realized that Thorin might have heard her. She chanced a glance at him, and froze. 

The king sat forward in his chair, his eyes flashing as he pinned her with an icy stare that stopped her dead in her tracks, and she knew that he had indeed heard. Like prey that had been cornered by a predator, she felt the crippling fear that came with being in his presence, felt it began to claw its way up her spine and turn her body cold with anticipation for what came next. The earlier moments of bravado were gone, replaced with fear, and all it had taken was a simple look from him. A shift in his tone of voice, and she was right back in that cell, and he was beating her. She swallowed, trying to force her fear down to a manageable level, but found it was so hard. Her knees had begun shaking under her gown, and she could feel sweat beginning to form on her skin, her body alternating between hot and cold as the panic began to creep in. 

“I’m sorry. Did you say something, witch?” His words were practically dripping with sarcasm, daring her to deny. 

Rowan kept her head low, and her tone quiet. “No, my king. I didn’t. Thinking out loud. Forgive me.” 

“Liar.” Thorin reached out and grabbed her forearm, holding her tight. “Say it out loud, so that I may hear you plainly.” 

“My king—” Rowan whimpered, feeling her eyes well with tears at his touch. 

Thorin’s grip tightened, and he tugged her closer. Rowan tensed further and started shaking harder, unable to fight back the terror that had taken hold of her heart. She tried to mentally remind herself that he didn’t have a belt, and that he wasn’t going to hit her, but none of that knowledge seemed to lessen the overwhelmingly heavy sense of dread that was wracking her entire body at the moment. 

“You are still afraid of me? Even after I’ve told you I wouldn’t hit you again?” Thorin’s soft voice washed over her, and she cringed at the sickly sweet smell of alcohol on his breath. He pulled her closer, so close that she was forced to place a hand at his forearm to keep from falling over and into his lap. “You shake like a leaf in my hands.”

“I can’t help it, my king.” Her voice was a mere whisper, and she fought back tears at being cornered so. Just a touch from him, a tone of his voice, or a look, could send her reeling with panic, and she hated feeling so helpless. 

“Sit.” Thorin tugged her closer, forcing her body over his, and Rowan held out as long as she could, until she could no longer manage, and had to drop down and onto his lap. She sat on his thigh, leaning awkwardly away from him, as stiff as a board save for the shudders that wracked her body. 

“Please let me go.” Her voice cracked, and she didn’t even know when she’d begun crying, but she had, though she dared not move a hand to wipe the tears as they dripped off her cheeks. 

“Relax.” He gently pulled her to him, her shoulder meeting his chest. Rowan leaned her head to try and stay away from him, but he was persistent, and after a few more painful moments, she found she could not hold herself upright in that way, and with a defeated sigh, felt her shoulder sink further into him. Moving millimeter by millimeter, she finally succumbed and let her cheek rest against the hard planes of his chest. Thorin’s arms came around her, and the two of them sat in silence. She could hear the steady thrumming of his heart against her ear, loud and intrusive and frustrating, and with every fiber of her being, she wanted to leap up, and run from the room, but instinctively knew he would not let her go.

“Just relax,” he murmured again, his tone softer now, more soothing. And maybe even calming. Rowan trembled, her eyes wide, and lips parted, and she very much reminded Thorin of a caught bird in his hands. Minutes passed, each one seeming longer than the other, until finally he felt her shoulders droop against him, whether from relaxation or giving up - he did not know. More silent minutes passed, their breaths regulating and syncing. 

“Tis not so bad, is it? Being here, with me?” Thorin’s deep baritone rumbled against Rowan's cheek, jolting her from the sleepy state she hadn’t realized she’d entered. Her eyes popped open, and she startled, but Thorin held her tight with his arms about her waist, and somehow, she found she relaxed much more quickly this time. She even managed to shift her head a bit for a better fit up under his chin. 

“Talk to me, Rowan.” 

Her eyes went wide again, this time at hearing her name roll off his tongue in such a way that made her belly warm and fluttery. He’d never called her by her name, not once since she’d been here, and to hear him say it now, in such an intimate situation, had caused a blush to spread all over her entire body. His arms tightened around her, and his chin came to rest on the top of her head. He was so broad, and so very warm. She’d never sat on a man’s lap before, save her father’s, and this was very different. Very, very different. 

“Did you enjoy dinner with my family?” 

“Yes. Thank you for letting me go, my king.” Her reply was stiff. Awkward like she was again, and as uncomfortable as she felt. 

“My nephew would not take no for an answer. He is quite taken with you.” 

“I enjoy his company.” Rowan answered plainly. Any moment now, she was waiting for the hammer to drop, for Thorin to rage at her, to get angry again like he always did. 

“Can we pretend that we don’t hate each other?” 

“It is hard to not hate you.” Rowan sniffled as she wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. 

“I imagine so,” was Thorin’s reply, and Rowan would swear she heard regret in his tone. She remained quiet. 

“You tried to kill me when we first met. Because you believe I am responsible for your family’s death.” Thorin’s grip tightened on her when Rowan stiffened under him. “And I don’t fault you for thinking that way. In fact, I may be inclined to agree with you.” 

She didn’t know what to say to that. Was he admitting that he was guilty?

“But I had already lost Fili, and could not bear to lose his brother as well. I promised my sister I would protect them, and I failed with Fili. I could not lose Kili. I would have done anything to save him.” Thorin’s voice grew hoarse. “Anything. I would have walked through the very fires of Mount Doom to save my nephew. Is it not the same? Are we so very different?” 

Rowan continued sitting in silence, not knowing how to respond. Her pride yelled at her to hate him. Her logic told her to rail at him, to accuse him, to blame him, to make him the reason for everything bad that had happened to her and her family, and to never, ever forgive him the things he'd done…

_…But her heart urged her to understand him. _

To empathize with him. To see that she and he, they were not so very different from each other in their losses and actions and behaviors. Another tiny shift in her thinking, and one that she wasn’t entirely prepared to process at all. She absentmindedly rubbed her cheek at his chest, using the fabric of his shirt to wipe her tears away, and the two of them sat, silent, each wrapped up in their own thoughts and fighting their own demons. After a while, it began to feel natural to sit on his lap like this, to not be as uncomfortable, to allow him to hold her like he was, and she closed her eyes, choosing to enjoy the warmth of another being, if only for a small moment. She nuzzled into his embrace, receiving his warmth as it cocooned her, and despite her misgivings, she began to notice things about him. Like, despite how hard and strong and wide his chest was, how easily she was able to fit into all his hard contours, almost as if she had melted on top of him. Not able to deny her urge, she tilted her head a bit, and saw the skin at his neck, and she inhaled deeply. She noticed his own unique smell, and found that underneath the alcohol, she could smell Thorin. The scent of his soap that he used. The lingering smoky smell from his pipe, the earthy smell from being outside and having worked. The woods and metal and leather…all the things that made him who he was. She closed her eyes and rested her cheek at his chest. 

She didn’t know how much time had passed as she lay there listening to his reassuring heartbeat, or how late it had become, when she felt Thorin’s grip on her slack, and one arm fell away from her. She chanced a glance up at him and saw that his head had canted; He was fast asleep. She gently pushed off him and stood. 

Staring down at him, his lips slightly parted in sleep, and thick lashes resting on his cheeks, it was hard to see the evil in him. Hard to find the hate that had been so readily available before. It was even harder to not see the broken man and broken heart masked by this strong warrior’s frame. She was glad that the medicine she'd given him had seemed to work, and appeared to give him some respite, but she'd be lying if she didn't admit she wanted a few more minutes of his strong arms holding her, and his warm voice soothing her. Right now, it was easy to forget all he'd done, and all he was. She reached down and pushed some dark hair off his forehead, smoothing his brow in the process, and easing the crease between his eyes with a gentle thumb. He sighed, wrinkled his nose, and turned, curling in on himself as he hugged his body. Rowan grabbed the blanket from his bed, and pulled it up over him, tucking it at his shoulders, and with one last look, quietly left his room.

The guards were waiting outside.

“The king said I should go back to my room,” Rowan addressed them. They nodded, and after one had checked on the king, escorted Rowan back to her room. The door locked behind her with cold finality. 

Rowan cried herself to sleep that night, and as she hugged her pillow to her chest, a tiny part of her couldn’t help but wish she was back in Thorin’s room, wrapped in his embrace. 


	16. Chapter 16

Thorin woke late the next day.

Later than he usually did, and he would have slept even longer if he'd not been woken by that blasted pounding at his door. 

“Come in!” he hoarsely yelled. He dropped his head back on the bed, and sank back into his warm blankets, wishing for a few more minutes of rest and warmth and quiet. A big part of him wanted to stay here for the remainder of the day, to soak up the sleep that he’d so desperately craved for so long and had somehow finally managed to catch. He rubbed a hand over his face, knowing duty would not allow him such leisure, despite what he wanted. 

“Thorin! Do you have any idea how late it is?” Dwalin griped as he came closer. The great dwarf warrior crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at his friend. Thorin was still dressed while he lay in his bed. Only his boots were missing. 

“Good morning to you, too, Dwalin.” 

“I heard the witch was here last night.” Dwalin cocked an eyebrow. Thorin scowled, cutting his eyes towards the door and the guards that lay beyond it. 

“Remind me to address their lack of privacy on my behalf.” 

“They were worried about you, Thorin. That you had not yet woken." Dwalin narrowed his eyes on his friend. "We are all worried about you. It is unlike you, to lounge about so. Are you sick?” 

Thorin rolled over, and a smile appeared on his sleepy face. For the first time since Ravenhill, he’d not woken up with a blasted headache. He went to sleep with them, carried them through his days, and woke with them. The damned headaches never left him in peace. 

_Except for this morning._

The pressure behind his eyes, it was all but gone. The pounding in his temples, the ache at the base of his skull - they were also gone. And he was fairly certain he'd not had any dreams last night, at least none that he could remember in this moment...

“Thorin? Did you hear me? Are you ill?” Dwalin pestered again.

“Be at peace, Dwalin. I am well. Better than well, actually.” The king sat up and rubbed a hand over his face. It was strange to feel as rested as he did, and he was very much out of sorts. “What am I late for?” 

Dwalin huffed in disbelief. “What are you late for? By my beard! The construction plans on the lower levels? The families, Thorin, they continue to pour in from the Ered Luin, and we must repair those ceilings before they arrive.” 

“How many families do we have now?” Thorin swung his legs off his bed and reluctantly sat up. He rolled his head around, stretching, and found that there was no pain in his shoulder, either. It was odd, to not feel that constant pain in his body. The pain had been with him for so long, and now that it was gone, it was almost as if a part of him was missing, and he wasn’t quite sure how to sit with that. He stood, and again, found he had no soreness, no aches, no pain…_anywhere.** Odd. **_

“We have nearly 300 hundred in residences already, and I expect another 100 by the end of the week. At least that's the news coming from the Blue Mountains.” Dwalin rubbed a hand over his jaw in contemplation. "I imagine we'll be full long before we anticipated." 

“Mahal,” Thorin grumbled as he shoved his feet in his boots. “So many are coming, and we are just now beginning to get back on our feet.” His worried eyes met Dwalin’s. “Can we manage that many? With only the homes we have available?” 

“Some families may have to bunk together, but aye, we can manage our family and friends, Thorin.” Dwalin paced. “The workers left behind by Dain, they are fast, Thorin. They will have that ceiling repaired in no time.” Dwalin cleared his throat. “But we need your approval on payment. Dori says that none but you have entered the treasury as of late, and none are allowed, save you, and he needs to have access in order to pay for supplies.” 

Thorin scowled as he made his way into his bathroom to wash. His scowl grew when naught but cold water came from his pump, and he hastily splashed it on his face and cleaned his teeth as quick as he could. 

“The water is too damned cold! What’s wrong with it?” He asked as he came out of the bathroom, drying his hands on a towel. Dwalin was still stood there, still waiting for answers and orders. 

“One of the springs is filled with the debris from the ceiling, Thorin. Rocks, and stones, and all matter of shit. Some of the piping has burst, and we can't tell which yet. We must clear it out, or the icy water will continue to be the only thing flowing up these damned pipes. We’ve practically got a dam down below, what with the way the river is choked off and the pools contaminated. The whole floor is flooded and that’s only added to all the shit we’ve got torn up down there.” 

“What’s the problem with clearing it out?” Thorin pulled a fresh shirt on. 

“The workers, Thorin. They will work, but we’ve got to pay them a fair wage. They are rebuilding too, just as we are, and they need money to take care of their own families.” 

“It’s always about money, isn’t it?” Thorin cinched his belt at his waist, and tugged on his gloves. 

Dwalin stepped forward, shaking his head. “We have enough gold, Thorin. More than enough.” 

“Not if we give it all away, we won’t,” Thorin disagreed. He walked over to the window, and looked down below. From his room, he could see the whole of the grounds, from the stables to the training grounds, to the road to Dale, and beyond. It was an unusually sunny day, a bright day not made dark by overcast and heavy clouds. “I’ll go down to the treasury and inventory the—”

The king’s words died off as something below caught his eyes. He leaned forward, squinting to get a better look. 

It was the witch. That unbraided mass of chestnut-colored hair…no dwarrow would carry herself in such a way, and no humans were allowed in his stables. His lips began curling up at the corners as his hands gripped the window’s edge. 

She was down at the stables, leading one of his ponies out into the neighboring paddock. He watched as she set the pony loose to graze, his eyes following her every movement. As if she were a child, she climbed up on the wooden fence and sat astride it, swinging her legs back and forth as she brought something to her mouth. What it was, he couldn’t tell, but her carefree posture brought a full smile to his face and a lightness in his soul. His pony ambled up to her, nuzzling her, and he saw Rowan cradle the horse’s head and plant a kiss on it’s snout. His smile deepened as he watched her; She looked like she belonged here. He wanted to know what was making her feel so happy, what was making her behave the way she was, and what on this earth made her so carefree. His need to go to her, to speak with her – it became overwhelming in that moment, and all else was forgotten. He turned, and headed towards the door, clapping his friend on his shoulder as he passed him. 

“I must do something first. Have Balin prepare the meeting room with the envoy from Dale and the Iron Hills. We can discuss negotiations when I get back.” Thorin grabbed his sword belt from his desk and hastily buckled it on his way to the door. 

“Where are you going, Thorin?” Dwalin grouched as he followed his king into the hallway. “Thorin!” 

Thorin was walking fast, his feet carrying him to the stairs and then down them, and Dwalin followed, struggling to keep up. The dwarf warrior was none too happy and frankly, had no idea what had gotten into the king. At the bottom of the stairs, they stopped, and Thorin pressed his hand at Dwalin’s shoulder, halting the angry warrior. 

“I have some business to conduct. Go to Balin, prepare the meeting room. I will be back within the hour.” 

Dwalin was left standing there, his scowl growing as the king disappeared down the remainder of the stairs. 


	17. Chapter 17

  
Rowan had pitched the last bit of hay into Myrtle’s stall, and was now giggling as the shaggy pony attempted to steal an apple from her. Earlier at breakfast, she’d managed to sneak a whole bunch of fruits from the kitchen, and currently had them in a bag slung over her shoulder, some of which were being fed to the ponies. Bongo whinnied from her stall, jealous of the attention, and leaned out as far as her neck would allow so that she, too, could have a sweet treat. Rowan slid a carrot towards the second pony, while Myrtle nuzzled her face. 

“You are just trying to get in my bag, you little beggar!” Rowan continued giggling as she shifted the bag on her shoulder so that she could get it away from the pony’s eager lips. “You can’t have it all right now!”

“Have you been raiding my kitchen?” 

Rowan stiffened at the familiar baritone, her smile fading as she turned to see Thorin stood behind her. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was leaned up against the door frame, looking every bit the king in his royal blue tunic and dark pants. His outfit was complete with his heavy boots, black, leather gloves, and furred vest. His belt hung low on his hips, and from it, his sheathed sword. Rowan bent, attempting to curtsy, but found it difficult with the bag on her shoulder. Plus, she still wasn’t very good at it. 

“My king.” 

Hiding his smirk at her terrible excuse for a bow, Thorin pushed off the doorframe and came towards her. “Good morning, witch. And now I can clearly see why my ponies are getting so fat.” He reached over the stall door and ran a hand through the pony’s mane, cocking a brow at Rowan. “They are being overly fed.” 

Rowan lowered her head and guiltily fumbled with the straps of the bag in her hand as she spluttered, “I am sorry, my king. I wasn’t stealing. I was only…I mean, I guess you could say I was…but I was just—”

“Stealing.” Thorin finished for her, and when Rowan looked up, she saw that he was indeed looking very smug, but also with..._something else. _

Some other emotion was there, which did not appear to be mean, or malicious, or accusing...but maybe mischievous? If she didn't know any better, she'd say he looked like he was teasing her, but she didn't have much knowledge or experience outside of her brother and father by way of interactions with men, and now Kili and the other dwarves. But what Thorin was doing - _what he did_ \- was totally different in the way it made her feel. She didn't blush when Kili teased her, nor did she feel all lightheaded and sort of dizzy when Balin smiled at her. Thorin was so different. She felt her heart speed up, thumping heavily in her chest at how playful he looked, and her cheeks bloomed with heat as his blue-eyed gaze lingered on her with such an intensity that made her squirm on her feet. The king…Thorin…he looked so different right now, in the light of day, his azure eyes that much clearer. He seemed…rested, and perhaps even happy, and for two seconds, she forgot how terribly afraid of him she was. She swallowed down the knot of nerves in her throat and forced her voice to be as normal as she could make it, not wanting to introduce tension on her part when he was being so calm. 

“I’ll work it off, my king. I’m sorry.”

“Worry not about the fruit. Your intentions were noble.” Thorin countered easily, waving his hand at her, and despite not wanting to, Rowan flinched. 

The king walked towards her, and despite her resolve to not be scared, Rowan felt the familiar anxiety begin, increasing in power with each step closer he took. By the time he was right in front of her, she was visibly shaking. Thorin reached out to grab the bag from her fingers, and he let it slide to the ground. Rowan fretted now that she had nothing physical to hold on to, and settled for wringing her fingers in front of her stomach in an effort to channel her nervous energy. Her eyes, she kept averted somewhere in the vicinity of his chest, though she desperately tried to not see the small patch of visible skin at his neck revealed by his missed button.

“How are you this morning?” 

“I’m fine, my king. How are you?” Rowan mumbled quietly. She did not know how to speak to him in this situation, with the sun shining, and things seeming so…normal, and her not knowing what was coming next. And why was he asking how she was? _Did he really care?_

“Better, thanks to you. That is why I’ve come, to personally thank you for whatever it was you did for me last night. The medicine you gave me, it was most appreciated.” 

At the tone of his voice, Rowan’s head popped up and her eyes met his. As she suspected, he was smiling, and she felt that weird sensation in her belly at seeing him do so. All she could manage in response was a half-smile and an uncomfortable nod before she looked away again. It was hard to maintain eye contact with him. 

“I haven’t slept that good in a very long time.” Thorin continued, earning another shy look from Rowan. 

“Those herbs, they’re very good for headaches and not sleeping. I’ll prepare some for Oin, and have him bring it to you.” 

“Or you can just bring it to me as you did last night.” Thorin stepped even closer, so close that Rowan could see the threads on his tunic, and could make out individual hairs on his chest as they rested at the base of his neck. 

“If that is what you require from me, then that is what I will do,” Rowan answered. Again, she forcefully swallowed down the lump in her throat, still not knowing how to behave or react, but feeling like she needed to run away from him.

More than anything, she just wanted to be out of his confusing presence. His scent was filling her nostrils, and his warmth was stretching out and curling towards her, almost as if he were physically touching her. When he'd raised his hand earlier, and when he'd taken her bag, she'd flinched both times - purely out of instinct. He still scared her. His large, intimidating frame, and strong hands and arms could inflict terrible pain._ But._..She also remembered vividly the way it felt to lay on his chest, and to be held by him, to have those same strong arms wrapped around her body, those same tough, calloused hands holding her at her waist, providing comfort and soothing her. To be held by someone she detested, and to not know whether she liked it or not, was so baffling. He had hurt her. He had hurt her so very badly, and he had been so very evil. So how in the world could she think of him as anything other than the monster that he had shown himself to be? Rowan frowned at the reminder – _she hated him, didn’t she?_ Why was her mind playing tricks on her, confusing her, making her doubt what she felt? When he was here, like this, talking like a normal, sane person, it was hard to remember the man that had beat her so badly, but she knew she needed to not forget all the things he'd done. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours, witch?” Thorin asked, his head tilted curiously as he watched her. 

“Nothing, my king.” She chanced a look up at him, and offered another shy smile. Thorin’s smile slipped, dissolving into a frown.

“No lies. I can almost see the wheels turning, and soon there’ll be smoke pouring from your ears as whatever idea it is you've got conjured up bubbles over. Tell me.” 

Hearing his tone - slightly playful and maybe teasing, yet still so stern and authoritative and demanding - annoyed Rowan to no end. And knowing that Thorin would force her to talk, even when she didn't want to, made that familiar burn of anger rise up within her that much quicker, the frustration boiling over as the power dynamic between them resurfaced. Her irritation rose, and she remembered she would always be lesser than him, never his equal, and would always be under his thumb as long as she was here in his kingdom. She crossed her arms over her chest, defensively. 

“Being outside, here, and outside the walls, it reminds me of my home. What I left behind when I was brought here.” She picked a piece of her fingernail, glaring at the offending skin as she tugged at it. “When I was kidnapped and imprisoned.”

“You have been given much freedom, witch, and yet it does not seem to satisfy you,” Thorin sulked. His eyes had grown icy, his lips pressed. "And I dare say, I have given you much more leeway than most, in more ways than you know. You don't even address me properly when you speak to me, and I let it pass when I should not." 

“Address you? All of this, and you focus on your title! Tell me,_ my king,_ would you be satisfied?” Rowan dared. “To be given just enough rope to run, but to always be jerked back at the last moment?” She flicked her chin towards the guards outside the stable. “To supposedly be free to roam, but have your every move watched and scrutinized as if you were going to fly out the window at any moment? Would you be happy?” 

Thorin humphed. “I would be thankful that I was still alive.” 

Rowan scoffed. “Be thankful I was still alive?! What life is that? To be accused of, and beaten for a crime you did not commit? And then, when all is revealed, to be kept hostage in a foreign place?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “This is no life for me.”

“How conveniently you forget that you tried to kill me…” Thorin rejoined, earning an exasperated look from Rowan.

“No, I haven’t forgotten that, because you will not stop bringing it up whenever I try to make you see how wrong you were and are! But, unlike you, I can admit when I'm wrong, and I was definitely wrong for that.”

“So, now you’re saying that I can’t admit when I’m wrong?” Thorin charged. “Is that what you’re saying?”

Rowan’s answering silence was enough for Thorin to draw his own conclusions from that. She stonily looked over the stall door, focusing on the grain of the wood. Silence stretched between the pair, until finally Thorin spoke again, and when he did, Rowan could hear the frustration in his voice. A part of her worried that she should be cautious with talking to him in such a way; The other part of her didn't care, because it didn't really matter in the big picture. She was his prisoner. 

“What would you have me do?” 

“Let me go,” came Rowan’s quiet reply. 

“No.” Thorin didn’t know why he said no. He had no reason to keep her - no valid reason, save for the simple fact that he didn’t want to let her go. And he was the king, so therefore he could do whatever he wanted with those in his charge, and right now, she was in his charge. Until he deemed it otherwise. 

“Then I would like to go back to my home, to see what is left there. If anything. Not to stay, but to see what’s there.” Rowan tucked her chin. “But I know you won’t let me, and I can’t lie and say that doesn’t make me really, really angry at you.”

“You believe there may be items there from your family?” Thorin asked. 

“Yes. I had a family painting done by someone in Dale. It was hanging over the fireplace, and I’m sure it’s not there any longer, but I would like to go and see if something survived. I scavenged what I could from our family home and took it with me to the small cabin, and I’d like to know if anything was still there.” Rowan found her voice diminished as her heart began to ache in her chest. “If anything survived.” 

“I will take you.” Thorin offered, surprising both himself and her. 

“What about Kili? He said—”

“I will take you, or you will not go.” Thorin crossed his arms over his chest. “Your choice, but choose quickly, for I have much to do today and tomorrow.” The logical part of his brain was wondering why on earth he’d offered, knowing he had so many more important things that needed to be done today, but he would be the one to take her, if she went. Not Kili, or anyone else. 

“Okay, I’ll go with you.” Rowan muttered, petulantly. She looked around, and then back at Thorin, her eyes hopeful. “Can I take Lily? I’m comfortable on her, and--”

Thorin tilted his head at her. “Give you a horse so you can escape? I think not.” He walked down the center of the stable until he reached his horse, a much larger black steed, and opened the door. The horse stepped out, his hide shiny and muscular flanks twitching with anticipation. Thorin ran a hand over his horse’s neck, humming words of appreciation, before turning back to Rowan. “You will ride with me, or not at all.” 

Rowan reluctantly walked to him, and waited, indecisive as he pulled his saddle out and readied the horse. 

“You’ve got maybe… 3 more minutes to decide,” Thorin decided. “And then I’m riding out that gate, with or without you.” He looked over his horse’s back and peered down his nose at her. “You ride with me, and I take you, or you don’t go at all. The choice is yours.” 

“Some choice!” Rowan grumbled. Nevertheless, she shrugged into her coat, and tugged her own gloves on. The weather in Erebor was unpredictable at best, and even though the sun was shining now, the sky could change in the blink of an eye. 

“Less than a minute, now,” Thorin continued, as he cinched the strap on the horse and checked the lead. He removed his sword from his waist, and placed it in the sheath along the horse’s side, and then walked the horse out of the stable. Rowan sullenly followed, waiting quietly until Thorin had spoken with the two guards and explained what was going on. After another quick inspection of the riding gear, and an adjustment on his belt, Thorin placed his foot in the stirrup, and quickly mounted. From his spot atop his horse, he looked down at Rowan. 

“Yay or nay?” He held out a gloved hand, wiggling his fingers. 

Rowan glared, looked around, and then finally reached up to place her hand in his. “I guess I have no choice.” 

In the blink of an eye, Thorin had hauled her up, and had her situated behind him, leaving Rowan to find some way to remain seated…but to also not touch him. At all. She clenched at the horse with her thighs, doing her best to grip the back edges of the saddle as she tried to not fall off. She muttered words of frustration under her breath. 

“You sound as if you’ve just agreed to go to your death.” 

“Honestly, it’s not much different,” Rowan snorted, earning a huff of a laugh from the king. 

A second later, Thorin made a clicking sound with his teeth, which put the horse into an easy walk, and Rowan stubbornly clung to the saddle with her fingertips; Her legs had already begun shaking from exhaustion, but she held fast....until a jerk and a jostle from the horse made her accidentally grab the back of Thorin’s coat. Just as quickly, she let go and resumed her white-knuckled grip on the back of the saddle, and she wondered how long she’d be able to ride like this before she fell off…

“Put your arms around me, or you will fall.” Thorin’s deep voice rumbled from in front of her. “Your choice.” With a click of his boots at the horse’s side, he spurred it on, urging it to move faster down the road that led to the gate, and reluctantly, Rowan looped her arms around the king. 

Rowan pressed closer, relieved to not have to manage her seat with the grip of her thighs alone, though holding onto Thorin like this was causing all kinds of other emotions in her body - both physical and emotional. After a few moments, she closed her eyes, allowing Thorin to take them wherever he wanted, in what direction and at what speed. It was easier to just give in, to relax into his strong form and let him lead in this way. It was easier than not fighting against him. She let out a big breath, and inched her hands around his chest, holding him as tightly as she dared. And it was a good thing, because just after she did so, Thorin, without warning, spurred his horse on into a full gallop, and away they went, straight out the gate. She hugged the king tighter, pressing her cheek at his back as they flew down the road to Dale and then beyond, and prayed that she didn't fall off and break her neck.


	18. Chapter 18

Rowan held tight against Thorin, her face pressed against his broad back as he easily maneuvered them down the long and winding road flowing along the River Running. It seemed the tighter she gripped him, the more he let the horse go, and the faster they went. A part of her was enjoying the ride, trusting that Thorin knew what he was doing, and she wanted to open her eyes and see the scenery pass by, but she dared not. This was not a joy ride, and she needed to remember that. On and one they went, through the twists and turns with the wind whipping through her hair as they cut through the countryside. The mists and occasional showers eventually cleared as they passed through to the other side of the now abandoned town on the lake. Thorin must have remembered the way, for not once did he ask her for directions, and it wasn’t very long at all before they were stopping. 

“Damn,” she heard Thorin grunt as he completely stopped his horse. Underneath, she could hear the horse panting, and Thorin's heartbeat under her cheek was beating just as fast. 

Unable to help herself, Rowan loosened her grip on his shirt and peered around him, and her own heart nearly stopped at what she saw: Her small shack, the one she’d occupied, was nothing more than a pile of rubble, collapsed on the ground. The old house, her family’s house, was there, an even larger pile of debris, but she dared not let her eyes linger there for too long. Not yet at least. Too many memories. Tentatively, she looked left, and saw that the makeshift graves were there, under the old tree just where she’d left them. It was quiet here, with no birds and no wind, no nothing. Just quiet, and somber and depressed, much like her mood. Her earlier happiness at riding was gone, her moments of joy taken by this painful cemetery, and with a quiet sob, she scrambled to slide off the horse, allowing Thorin to hold her hand as she reached the ground. He followed, leaving his horse to graze where it would. 

“It’s all gone. All of it.” She collapsed on her knees at the edge of the mess that once was her second home, and covered her face in her hands as she softly mourned. It was all destroyed. Any last little bit of memory that she might have had of her family, was now completely gone. All of it, gone and burned and trampled upon, and left for garbage. The sudden realization, the weight of her having literally nothing in this whole, wide world any more hit her in her chest like a ton of bricks. The area near her heart hurt, and all she could do was stare at the destruction in mute disbelief. 

“I’m sorry, Rowan.” Thorin’s deep voice broke into her grief. He had stopped at her side and was surveying. “Perhaps we can look and see what may remain. There may be something yet. Come, let’s go together. I’ll help you search.” 

With a resigned sniffle, she accepted Thorin’s offered hand and allowed him to pull her up. Together, the two of them walked around the burned down house and searched. There was not much to look for, and even less to find. She found a few items that had been her mother’s – a mortar and pestle set, some various knives, and some glass containers that had somehow survived the terror. She kept searching, on her hands and knees as she dug through the rubble, desperate to find something, anything, but found nothing of her father, brother, or sister. She found bits of paintings, torn fabrics. Scraps of books, torn pages, and ripped spines. Some clothing, a lonely sock. All pieces of her life, all mashed into the ground and trampled on as if she and her family had never existed. She was still crawling around when Thorin came back to her. 

“There’s nothing left. It’s all gone.” She sniffled again, wiping the back of her sleeve against her nose as she sat up on her knees. This was the most disheartening thing, and she began to regret ever asking him to bring her here. She just wanted to be away from it, to pretend she’d not seen the destruction again. To not be faced with reality. She wanted to leave, and never come back. She wiped at a tear as it made it's slow trek down her cheek. 

“What about this?”

She looked up through bleary eyes, and saw her mother’s silvery pearl necklace hanging from Thorin's fingers. It was covered in soot and dirt and grime, but she knew it for what it was. 

“My father gave that to my mother!” Rowan’s tear-streaked face erupted into a smile as she reached out to take it from him, but when Thorin pulled it back from her, she immediately looked up in a frown. He held his other hand out to her and wiggled his fingers. 

“Let me.” He continued explaining. “This came from Erebor. I know this craftmanship, and I imagine I knew the dwarf that created it for your father, long ago. Let me put it on you.”

Shyly, Rowan took Thorin’s hand and stood, and he walked around behind her to put the necklace on her. She lifted her hair, making way for him, and when Thorin looped the necklace around her neck, she began smiling anew as soon as she felt the slight weight of the silver chain against her skin. 

“See, Rowan? Fire can’t destroy everything. We dwarves are nothing if not hardy, and that includes our jewelry.” Thorin remarked as he clasped the necklace and smoothed it down, the pride in his voice unmistakable. Rowan turned around to him, grinning, as she fingered the single pearl pendant that hung from the chain, and she saw Thorin smiling back. 

“You’ve got soot all over your face, witch.” He reached out and ran a finger over the tip of her nose and turned it around to show her the proof. “You look like a chimney sweep.” 

“You are dirty too, Thorin!” Rowan teased back, but then caught herself at the casual use of his name. She started to apologize, but Thorin shushed her with a hand over her mouth. She blinked back up at him and saw that he was giving her a sly grin. His brilliant blue eyes sparkled with mischief. 

“It will be our secret, Rowan. Should we find ourselves alone like this again, you may call me Thorin, and I’ll call you Rowan. Deal?” He removed his hand from her mouth, and instead, held it out for her to shake, and she did so. She still trembled, but found it was not near as bad as it was before. Thorin had not yet released her hand after they shook, but she had not released his either, and so the two of them stood there, holding hands, and barely breathing. Well, she was barely breathing; she had no idea what Thorin was doing as he looked completely unaffected. 

“Can I confess something to you?” Thorin’s voice was so deep, so smooth, like whiskey in a glass, and Rowan found herself melting at the timber of it as it washed over her. Her skin had erupted in goosebumps that had nothing to do with the temperature, or the mist falling from the sky, or the brisk breeze...but everything to do with the dwarf before her. The dwarf king that was still holding her hand, clasped so warmly in his. 

“You are the king, so I imagine you can do and say and confess whatever you want.” Rowan looked down at their joined hands. Some part of her brain screamed to let go, but she couldn’t get her arms to work. The longer she stood like this in his presence, the more anxious she was becoming, but she felt frozen, incapable of doing anything. 

Thorin’s grip tightened on her hand, just a bit. “I wish we had met under better circumstances, and that we were not enemies as we are today.” 

“You were not my enemy, Thorin. Not really. Not even when I thought you were. But you have always seen me as yours.” Angered, Rowan released his hand, withdrawing from him physically and mentally. 

Thorin’s brow darkened at her words, and Rowan felt her unease start rising within. The king, the ruler of Erebor, the one who doled out punishments and harsh laws, the one who decided fates and sentences and beatings...he was reappearing. She felt like she was walking on eggshells with him, never knowing when he was going to revert back to the monster she knew him capable of, the terrifying, blue-eyed demon she'd witnessed firsthand. How could those two men exist within the same body? The Thorin she’d ridden here with, the one that had helped her search for her things, and shown so much pity…he was unnerving, and she didn’t know how to take him. And as much as she hated the mean Thorin, at least she knew what she was getting with that one, and could hopefully act accordingly and maybe he’d eventually let her go. This one, the one that was at first nice, and caring, and helpful, but was now getting mad at her again, and frustrated with her again —she had no idea what to do with this version. She wished he would choose one way or the other, and be that way all the time, because just when she was lulled into relaxing, she had to be on her guard, again. And she was no help in her confusing reactions - her fear of him got overpowered by her annoyance, which led to her mouth running away with her, and she started saying things that she knew she shouldn't say, and then he would get mad, and then she would get even more scared, and the whole blasted cycle would begin again.

It was just difficult to be with him. **Period.**

“You tried to kill me when we first met.” Thorin's harsh voice reminded her that he was still there. 

“Yes, I did. And you kidnapped me. And imprisoned me, falsely accused me. And then you beat me, nearly half to death. I still bear the marks from your belt.” She scrunched her face in distaste, and in doing so, missed the grimace that passed over the king’s countenance at her words. Thorin’s belt and buckle were as heavy and brutal as his hands; She’d gotten a good look at herself in the mirror, and the scars were still there, and probably would be for a good long while. Rowan lifted her chin, defiantly. “I’d say we were even now.” 

“Your logic frustrates me so badly!” Thorin hissed, his fists clenching and unclenching.

Not having the courage to speak further, and knowing that she’d already gone entirely too far, Rowan looked down at the ground, terrified that the king was about to erupt.

Rowan remained painfully silent as she shook, and Thorin found his frustration with her growing. He flung his hands out in front of him. “Say something to me!” 

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I just want to go back home. Can we please go back?” She didn’t want to be alone with him anymore. She was right back to being terrified of him, and she wanted to not be alone with him any longer. She didn't want to be in this terrible place that reminded her of so much loss, and she didn't want to be alone with him, and she didn't want to-

A noise, something in the distance behind her forced Rowan's eyes up and behind her, her focus shifted as she looked for the source of the noise. Thorin was already watching for it, whatever it was, and when his horse loudly whinnied, the dwarf immediately drew his sword, their conversation forgotten as something at the edge of his vision fully caught his attention. Rowan's stomach dropped, her insides churning with fear at seeing Thorin so riled up, his back tense and stance getting set for what looked like battle. She again looked back behind her at the woods and saw nothing. She turned back to see that Thorin was waving at her to come closer, and to move behind him. 

“Get behind me, Rowan. Do it now!” His eyes never left the edge of the woods he gave his order to her.

Thorin again urged her behind him with a wave of his free hand, but before she could move, they heard the screech of a warg as it bounded from the woods and charged them. It was moving at an impossibly fast pace, the ground under it's feet being eaten up so fast that none could react in time. In her fear, Rowan tripped over her feet and fell to the ground, and she watched from where she'd fallen, horrified as Thorin fought off the warg that had already reached them and had pounced. It had been coming for her, but Thorin jumped in front of it to stop it, catching the beast somewhat unaware. The impact knocked the dwarf king down, and Thorin lay on his back, holding the creature by it’s throat, keeping those snapping, snarling teeth away from his face by sheer strength alone. Thorin’s other hand sought out Orcrist from where it had been knocked from his grasp, and, unable to do both, the dwarf did the only thing he could in that moment, and ducked his head, releasing the beast for a moment so that he could grab his sword. Rowan watched, horrified, as the warg took the opportunity to latch onto Thorin’s forearm, tearing into his shirt and glove, and biting through the arm-guard. The sound the warg made as it tore the king's shirt and then skin, the devilish gurgling as it shook it's head side-to-side was something Rowan would never, ever forget hearing. Rowan saw blood seeping from Thorin as he pressed his forearm against the warg, willing it back, all the while he was getting his arm torn to shreds in the creature's jaws. The warg inched closer, his frame covering Thorin as it snapped closer and closer to the king's head. 

“Thorin!” She screamed, terrified that he was about to be eaten alive. She crawled towards him, wanting to help in some way, but before she got there, the king managed to reach his sword, and swiftly stabbed the creature in its neck. The warg let out an agonizing howl as it collapsed on top of the king, and then a deafening silence ensued, just as before. With her heart thrumming loudly in her ears, Rowan crawled to Thorin, tears streaming down her face as she prayed that he would still be alive. 

“Thorin? Thorin!” 

“I” – came his grunt, and then the warg was rolled off him – “am here.” The king sucked in a deep breath as he lay on his back, and Rowan immediately grabbed at his arm to survey the damage. The skin between his wrist and elbow was flayed open, nearly to the bone. She looked him over, seeing that he had another wound on his thigh, right above the knee, probably from the warg’s claws, and some scratch marks on his chest and some more near his neck. Blood seeped out, wetting the fabric of his pants, and dripped to the ground, forming a small pool behind his thigh. 

“Thorin, this is bad. We need to get back to Erebor. Wargs are notoriously filthy in their mouths, and if they bite, you’ll get sick!” Her worried eyes met the king’s, and he offered her a weak smile as he struggled to sit up. She helped him, pulling at his shoulders to get him upright. 

“Then perhaps you’ll see me dead yet, aye?” he quipped, earning a glare from Rowan. Thorin was shaking, his body pumping with leftover adrenaline, and now with the blood loss; Rowan knew it was a very bad situation they'd found themselves in. 

“Don’t say such stupid things. Come on, let’s get you on the horse.” Rowan managed to get Thorin to stand, but when he was finally upright, he promptly collapsed right back to the ground. And so, Rowan went to the horse instead, and brought it to Thorin. She leaned over the king, cupping his face in her hands to see his eyes. 

“Can you get up, Thorin? One more time? I can’t lift you, and we have to get back to Erebor.” She timidly slapped at his cheek, and the king groaned as his eyes fluttered open again. “Thorin! Wake up and look at me!” 

“Give me my reins,” came Thorin’s weak whisper. “My horse knows me…he knows what to do…” 

Rowan did as he asked, and Thorin tugged on the reins as he spoke in Khuzdul. The horse knelt at it’s owners side, and Rowan, seeing what was happening, helped Thorin into the saddle. The king sat, wobbly and swaying, but he was seated at least. 

“Come, Rowan. Let’s go home,” he held his hand out for her, and Rowan hesitated for a minute, fearing that she would pull Thorin down.

Deciding that she would do more harm than good by taking his hand, she pushed him away, and instead used the stirrup to climb up, situating herself behind him just as she'd sat before. Thorin didn’t even comment on where she sat, or how she got up there, as he appeared to have passed out. Rowan was horrified to see that he’d slumped in the saddle and was falling forwards, about to slide off, and she caught him just before he did, grabbing at him, forcing his arms around the horse’s neck as she took the reins from his hands. His dead weight rested at the horse’s neck; his breaths quick and shallow as his arms hung loosely against the horse. Rowan quickly took the end of the lead rope that she’d managed to pull from Thorin’s bag, and threw it under the horse, and around, doing her best to secure Thorin to the horse. She tied the rope at Thorin’s back, securing him as best as she could. She would have to hold him with her free hand; it was the only way. She shifted in the saddle, situating herself so that her legs cradled his hips better, and tugged on the reins. 

Thorin gave a groan, and then whispered, “I think you will have to get us back. I don’t…I do not feel well at all.”

“It is the poison in the warg’s blood!” Rowan blanched, feeling the king slump again. She tugged at his arms, forcing him straight again, and helped him to drape his arms around the horse. She tightened the rope once more, cinching it around his upper shoulders. If Thorin was going to fall, she was going to fall with him with the way she had him tied. He was going to take the entire saddle with him if he went, and her with it. Damnit all to hell! 

“Thorin, I need you to hold on to the horse, okay? As best as you can, keep your arms around its neck. The rope will hold you, but not if you go sideways.” She urged the horse on with a click of her heels. “We’re going back to Erebor. Right now. Just hang on, okay?” 

Thorin slumped forward, and Rowan allowed him to lay draped over the horse’s neck as they traveled back. She held the reins in her hands which rested atop the king, holding him as best as she could as she steered the horse back in the direction that she hoped was correct. The horse tugged at the bit in his mouth, pulling left when Rowan wanted to go right, before finally stopping and stamping his hooves. Rowan gave a kick at the horse's flanks, trying to urge him on, and again, the horse stamped his feet in disobedience. Thorin groaned, shifting in the saddle, and Rowan grimaced at seeing how the blood dripped from his arm and his leg, wetting the ground below them. The king turned his head, and whispered something in the horse’s ear, again in Khuzdul, and the horse picked up speed. 

“Worry not, Rowan. Azaghâl knows the way.” Thorin's strained voice informed as he patted the horse’s neck, earning a neigh in response from the steed. The king dropped his head again against the horse's mane. 

The horse took them back towards what she hoped was Erebor, and Rowan hung onto to Thorin, doing her best to prevent him from falling. Her only option was to allow the horse to go where it wanted, for she knew not the way, and Thorin was no use at the moment. She only prayed that it was the right direction. With the wounds Thorin had, and the poison spreading as she feared it was, she knew better than anyone else how little time he had left before any treatment would be much too late…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: 
> 
> First off all, thanks for everyone that's still reading! Your comments help me so much, and when you ask questions, it makes me think of things that I hadn't quite thought of before, and sometimes, the story changes based on that input, so that is super awesome! You have no idea how much I live for the comments. 
> 
> Second, I'd like to apologize for last night's update and all the errors and forgotten words. My family was here and they suck, and I took some nausea meds, and so when I posted, I was barely awake. I saw the errors this morning, and I tried to go back and fix them. 
> 
> As far as the relationship progressing, I think they are both so confused, and are both "working with what they have" so to speak. Rowan hasn't yet forgiven Thorin, and Thorin still thinks that he did nothing wrong. Not sure when they will settle that and come to some sort of an agreement. I am trying to keep it as real as I think it might be in a place like Erebor, and keeping in mind that I think Thorin is still very much ill with the gold-sickness. The more he's around it, the more he sinks. But it seems like Rowan, whether he or she knows it, is pulling him out, slowly but surely. 
> 
> I dunno...
> 
> Curious how everyone will react after this chapter. Seems like things are shifting in this "relationship". Hopefully for the better! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Xoxoxoxoxo ~ Crazytxgradstudent


	19. Chapter 19

Rowan had done her best to staunch the flow of blood from Thorin’s thigh by pressing her hand against the gash, but it was futile at best, and ultimately, she had to stop the horse once they reached the edge of Lake-Town. It seemed safer here, at least, out in the open, and she could see people off in the distance, so hopefully there would be less chance of wargs or orcs or other foul creatures about. She pulled back on the reins, halting the horse, and slid to the ground. With one hand on Thorin to hold him in place, the other she used to rip at the hem of her dress, all the while cursing everyone and everything for not having any medicine or proper bandages for Thorin’s wounds. The king looked deathly pale, and he seemed to be barely breathing, and Rowan was beyond worried that he would not make it back alive. 

“This is going to hurt a bit, but it has to be done,” she spoke softly as she cinched the fabric around his thick thigh. Thorin gave a shallow groan, but didn’t even lift his head, and his lack of reaction worried Rowan even more. The bandage seemed to stop the flow of blood, and after checking it again, she made her way to his side to inspect his mangled forearm. She grimaced. 

His forearm was a hundred times worse than his thigh and chest wounds. The skin was peeled back, the angry, jagged wound from the warg’s teeth making the exposed meat and tissue look like a mangled, irreparable mess. Rowan carefully pulled the remainder of the forearm guard from his skin and let it fall away. Thorin let out a hiss of disproval, but again, did not lift his head to argue. Rowan carefully wrapped the fabric around the wound on his arm, and tightened it as much as she dared. When she was satisfied that she’d done all she could, she climbed back up on the horse, and spurred it on in the proper direction. 

She leaned over Thorin, and gently pressed her hand at his forehead, feeling for the fever that she knew was there. She winced with unease as she felt how incredibly warm he was; He was on fire. 

“Just hold tight, Thorin. We’re almost home, and then I’m going to get you all better.” She shifted in the saddle and tightened her grip on the king. “Just a little while longer.” 

* * *

Some hours later, when Rowan finally made it, and rode up to the gates of Erebor, she was met with guards that appeared ready for battle. Their spears were aimed at her, the archers on the wall had their arrows trained on her. One dwarves soldier gave a few yells in what she assumed was Khuzdul, and then Dwalin and Kili appeared. 

“What is this?” Dwalin yelled as he stepped to her, his face red with rage. "What have you done to him?" 

“He is injured,” Rowan explained as she slid from the horse. “He needs help, and quick.” 

“Rowan, what happened?” Kili eyed her warily. “What happened to my uncle?” 

“He took me to visit my family’s home, and we were attacked.” Rowan started untying the ropes that held Thorin. “Kili, come get him! We must get him inside and in the bed. He needs medicine!” Rowan reached for the final knot but was jerked back by a set of strong hands. The guards had grabbed her, one on each side, and held her back from undoing the remaining ties. 

“Take her back to the cell.” Dwalin’s cold voice commanded. Realizing what Dwalin had just ordered be done, Rowan looked at him with wide, frantic eyes; Dwalin just coldly glared back at her. What on earth was happening? _Were they blaming her for Thorin? _She started kicking, flailing about as she understood that was exactly what was happening.

“No! You can’t! I have to help him!” Rowan struggled at the restraining arms of the guards. She looked to Kili for help. “Kili! If I wanted to hurt him, I would have let him die out there! Don’t you see? Kili!!” 

“Rowan, go quietly, please,” Kili stepped back, his shoulders slumped in resignation. “Just..go. Please, it’ll be easier on everyone. Please. Until we figure this out.” 

“Kili!” Rowan screamed in frustration. “You can’t be serious!” Rowan wasn’t allowed to say anything else, as she was dragged away.

The last thing she saw was Thorin being peeled from the horse, his limp body being caught by Dwalin and Kili as she was dragged back down into the dungeons of Erebor...

* * *

The door opened, letting in a sliver of light, and Rowan peered up from where she was sitting, back in the same corner she’d occupied before. Her eyes were gritty from crying, her face still dirty from the ride back and the soot from her home. Blood was still caked under her fingernails, and splattered on her dress, a horrifying reminder of what she’d gone through with Thorin. She’d not been allowed to clean up, nor had she been allowed to eat or drink. Night had fallen, she was sure of it, though she had no idea how much time had truly passed. 

“Rowan?”

It was Kili that had come. 

“What do you want?” Rowan couldn’t hide the bitterness at her friend. How could he have let her go right back to this cell? Did no one ask questions, and see what was going on before being punished? This whole place was full of people that reacted first, and maybe asked questions later. She was sick to her back teeth of being accused of things that she'd not done!

“Look, I know you’re mad at me, and I understand, but we need you to come see Uncle Thorin. He is not well, Rowan. Not at all.” Kili's deep, brown eyes beseeched her. "Tauriel is not here, and Oin, he is lost. We need your help. I am begging you." 

Rowan’s heart lurched at hearing that, and she shot to her feet. “What’s wrong? Why is Oin not treating him?” 

“Oin has done all he could, but...His fever won’t break. It is the poison in his blood.” Kili came closer. “Please, I know I have no right to ask you, but will you come and help him?” 

“I should say no,” Rowan spat, though in her heart she knew she could never be so cruel. Kili blanched at her words but said nothing as he waited for her decision. Rowan lifted her chin. “Take me to him. I’ll do what I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to address Rowan's lack of first aid at the injury site. I did do that on purpose, since I think she was so naive and just trying to get them out of there. 
> 
> But, I am pleased to say, that I do see a definite shift in their relationship. Maybe not so much romantic, but more of an understanding. 
> 
> This is just a short chapter in a prelude to the next one, which is bigger....


	20. Chapter 20

Kili took Rowan not to the king's room, but down to the infirmary. Thorin was there, laying on the bed, his body shivering and shuddering under heavy blankets as the fever wracked him. Rowan pressed a hand at his brow, and immediately drew back. She turned accusing eyes on Oin. 

“He is on fire! Did you not give him anything?” She turned back to the king, looking him over as she pulled the heavy blankets off and tossed them on the floor. His body broke out into goosebumps, his teeth started chattering and his fingers twitched. He was cleaned up, his wounds bandaged and sutured as far as she could tell, but the fever, it had not left him, and appeared to have increased. This was not good at all. "And why is he covered in so many blankets? Are you trying to kill him?!"

“We gave him everything, miss. Nothing seems to be working!” Oin countered, his own annoyance high at being talked down to by this girl. 

“I need my bag.” She turned to Kili, determined. “Where is my bag? It was last in Thorin’s room! Go get it, now!” 

“You do not give orders ‘round here, witch.” Dwalin stepped out from the shadow, his stony features set in a glower menacingly directed at Rowan. She turned her angry eyes on the dwarf warrior, the one who’d ordered her back into the cell, and she fought back the urge to punch him in his stupid face. She’d had enough of his shit to last her for the entirety of her days. 

“No, I do give orders around here when it comes to saving someone’s life, because obviously you lot of idiots have no idea what you’re doing!” She was spitting mad, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. Her eyes never left Dwalin’s as she ordered Kili again. “Kili, go and get my bag. Right now. If you want him to live, you’ll do it now!” 

Dwalin charged forward, shouting: “I should string you up by your neck, you insolent little—”

“Touch me and I’ll kill you myself!” Rowan cut off the dwarf with a dismissive wave of her hand. She looked back down at Thorin and pressed a hand at his forehead, smoothing out the crease between his eyes, and brushing her fingers over his skin. “He saved my life, at great risk to his own.” She looked back up at Dwalin, her gaze resolute. “I won’t let him die.” 

Dwalin's voice had lowered with implicit meaning as he uttered: “Aye, if he dies, you will die with him.” 

* * *

Some time later, Rowan had administered the last of the liquid antibiotic to counteract the poison in his blood, doing her best to make sure every last drop went down Thorin’s throat. He swallowed with great difficutly, but swallow he did. She pressed the icy, wet rag at his forehead again, and watched as he broke out into a fresh set of goosebumps. 

“You are freezing him to death!” Dwalin hissed from his post at Thorin’s bedside. 

“I am breaking his fever,” Rowan countered easily. She’d learned to not take Dwalin’s bait. She recognized that the dwarf warrior hated her for whatever idiotic reason, and wanted to blame her for every bad thing that happened, and if she allowed it, he would run her down with his words. It was better to just ignore him, and do what she knew how to do best. She ran the rag along Thorin’s upper body, along the bare skin near his collar bone and up his chest, drawing out the fever with every gentle stroke. 

“Will he be alright?” Kili came closer to peer over her shoulder. 

“It’s questionable. The poison is strong, but Thorin is also strong,” Rowan remarked. Indeed, he was strong. Any normal human would have succumbed already to so much toxicity running in their blood. “We have to let the medicine do its job, and let his body heal.” 

“Is there anything we can do?” Balin gently asked. “Anything we can get you?” His old eyes searched Rowan’s face and lingered on her bloody clothes with meaning. 

Reminded, Rowan looked down at herself and frowned: She was still covered with Thorin's blood, and dirt, and grime, and all manner of other things. The only clean spot on her body was her hands, as she’d washed them early on so that she wouldn’t further infect Thorin as she’d worked on him. 

“I would really like to get cleaned up, if possible.” She wrung out the rag and rewet it before handing it to Kili. “Keep running this over his head and shoulders and neck. When it gets hot, rewet it. We want to draw out the fever as much as possible, so don’t let him get too warm.” She stood and tugged at the blanket, pulling it down to Thorin’s waist. Her eyes met Dwalin’s. “He is shivering, yes, but that is normal as the fever tries to hang on. If we cover him, and get him overly warm, it’ll only make the fever worse.” 

Dwalin only glared at her as she made her way out the door to get cleaned up. 

* * *

Later, when Rowan was cleaned up and changed into fresh clothes, she waited in her room for someone to fetch her. She was getting antsy, not knowing what was happening with Thorin, and it had been a few hours at least that she’d been away from him. She wrung her hands as she stopped her pacing and stood at the window, doing her best to calm herself down. The wind howled outside, a fresh storm having arrived, and with it, an icy blast of frozen air that pelted the windows like rocks. It was amazing how quick the weather could change up here in the mountain, how it went from sunny to freezing in just mere hours. 

A knock at her door had her running to it. She pulled it open to see Kili there. 

“How is he?” Rowan asked, her voice breathless from moving so fast. Kili gave a sheepish smile. 

“I think his fever is coming down, but I don’t know much about sickness. We need our doctor to return.” He held out his hand, and Rowan took it. His thoughts halted her, and she stopped to look up at the dwarf in concern. “I am sorry, Rowan. For doubting you earlier. I…I can’t lose my uncle, you see, and seeing him like that, it reminded me of…well, after Ravenhill, he was very sick…and my brother…I can’t…”

“Don’t say anything else, Kili. I understand.” Rowan wrapped her other hand over the dwarf’s, enveloping his in-between hers. “I understand.” 

“You see too much,” Kili sniffed, trying to be strong and stoic, but the tears in his soft eyes gave him away. 

Rowan squeezed his hand, gently. “I see how much you love your uncle, and how much you loved your brother, and that’s enough for me to understand why you behaved the way you did.” 

“I have to know, why are you helping him? After everything he did to you, why would you not want to see him dead?” Kili stopped them at the door, and looked down at Rowan, curiously. “You have every reason to want him dead. Why the change of heart?” 

“I don’t know, and I wouldn’t call it a change of heart as I would call it a resignation. I still want to kill him more times than not, but it is not in my heart to do so,” Rowan laughed softly. “And I do not think your uncle is as bad as he thinks he is. There is still good in him, even if he doesn’t see it himself.” 

Kili eyed Rowan in wonder. “How can you experience so many bad things, and yet still be so gentle and forgiving?” 

Rowan gave a snort. “I never said I forgave him, Kili. I don’t know if I ever could forgive him, to be honest.” Rowan released the dwarf’s hand so that she could hug herself. “And he terrifies me, still. When he is mad, it scares me half to death. I only say what I say because maybe a part of me finally understands him, at least a little bit. I have not lived in this world that you all have, and I didn’t have the same experience of war and loss and death before, but I do now. And I would do anything to see my family again. Anything. And as faulty as his logic is, I can possibly see why he would do things the way he does. It doesn’t make it right, and I don’t wish it to happen again, but some part of me understands him.”

She pulled the door open, and cocked an eyebrow at the dwarf. "Now, can we please go? I've had enough of this talking and wondering and pondering." 

Kili gave her another sheepish smile, and took her hand in his, and off they went, back to the infirmary. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rowan's sassy side is on full display here...wonder what's got her so worked up?


	21. Chapter 21

Thorin appeared much better than he did when she left him, and Rowan couldn’t hide the smile that broke out at seeing the color in his cheeks that hadn’t been there earlier. She pressed her palm at his forehead, and her smile grew. 

“His temperature is coming down!” 

“Aye, he looks better, does he not?” Balin smiled with his own happiness. “I cannot thank you enough, Rowan, for what you’ve done for our king.” 

“She nearly got herself and him killed!” Dwalin spat as he stepped from the shadows. “What were you doing out there? And how did you convince Thorin to stray so far from the mountain?” 

“I didn’t convince him to do anything. He asked me to go, if you must know. I asked for Balin to take me, Thorin said no, that it had to be him. And so, we went. We were getting ready to head back when the warg attacked.” She looked down at Thorin, her countenance softening. “It was coming after me. Thorin jumped in front and took it down with his bare hands.” 

“And you didn’t help him? You sat by and watched it chew him up?” Dwalin accused. 

“By my beard, will you ever stop this nonsense!” Balin griped. “If she wanted him dead, why would she have brought him back home? She could have left him and taken the horse and been on her way! But she came back! And she’s here now, taking care of him! Will you not give her a moment’s peace from your suspicions?” 

Without a word, Dwalin grabbed his axes and replaced them on his back before stomping over to the door to let himself out. The door slammed behind him.

“Thank Eru,” Rowan breathed out, earning a chuckle from Balin. “How do you deal with such a miserable person?” 

“Don’t mind him, lassie. My brother is as suspicious as they come. Everyone is an enemy until they prove themselves otherwise, as far as he’s concerned.” 

“Well, I don’t want to prove anything to him,” Rowan rejoined. “I’d rather not speak to him, or have any interactions with him. No offense.” 

“None taken,” Balin chuckled again. He crossed his hands at his back and watched as Rowan rewet the rag and ran it over Thorin’s much cooler neck. “He looks so much better.” 

“He does,” Rowan smiled. She gently tucked a braid back behind his ear to get it off his neck. “His color is coming back, and soon enough, he’ll be back to his normal surly self.” 

Balin laughed out loud, and Rowan couldn’t help but giggle along with him. 

“Thorin will reward you greatly for this, worry not.” 

Rowan’s laughter faded. “I don’t want any reward. I just want to be let go, to be free from this place.”

“Is it so bad here, Rowan?” 

“Thorin asked me the same thing, actually…” Rowan frowned as she remembered that conversation. 

“And? What did you say?” Balin queried. 

“I didn’t say anything, because I don’t know how to answer that. I don’t know what’s good and bad anymore, and what’s right or wrong. I can’t tell the difference anymore. Before, I thought I knew good from evil, but now? Now, things are so cloudy in my head.” She pressed the rag at Thorin’s brow, smoothing out another crease. 

“You are doubting yourself?” Balin gently pried. 

“My judgement, yes. I’m doubting my judgement.” Rowan withdrew from Thorin, yet her eyes remained on him. Her voice was a mere whisper when she spoke again. “He beat me, Balin. Within what felt like inches of my life. How can I in any way excuse that? How can I say that I understand that? How can I see past that?”

“I cannot say that I agree with Thorin’s methods, because I do not. I did not agree nor endorse it when it was happening, but he is my king, and therefore I had to follow him and his judgement. He lost his entire family in this endeavor, save his nephew, and very nearly lost his mind. He has not grieved Fili’s death. In truth, I don’t think he’s well yet, Rowan. This place, it has a hold on him, that you can’t understand. His grandfather was ill, very ill. His father, they were all sick. It is that gold, Rowan, that lies below. There is a sickness that lies on that gold, the stench of dragon and greed and the never-ending desire to have more, that has Thorin in it’s grip, whether he knows it or not. When he’s away from it, he’s functional. When’s he’s around it, it’s a terrible foe.” Balin bowed his head. “I don’t know how to answer you, or advise you, or direct you in the way that you should go. I can only tell you what has happened and what is.”

No more words were spoken, as Rowan found she had nothing to say to all of that, and feeling restless, she began working. She checked Thorin’s wounds again, rebandaging his forearm after she’d checked his sutures, and reapplied more healing salve. Only time would tell if he’d regain full use of his arm and hand, and she was glad for him that it was his left arm, and not his sword hand. His leg, she also rechecked, and was pleased to see that it was healing nicely. He would still walk with a cane for a bit, but he would walk. When she was done checking him over, she and Balin passed some more liquid antibiotic through his lips. Thorin was somewhere in-between asleep and awake but was able to take the entire cupful down with no problem. His eyes never opened, and he never spoke, but he drank it all, and that was enough to make both Rowan and Balin happy, and for some time, they sat in companionable silence. 

“Shall I walk you to your room?” Balin asked after the night grew long. 

“I think I’ll stay, if it’s alright?” She shifted in the chair, tugging at the blanket to cover her feet. “I’m comfortable here. The fire is warm enough. And that way, I can be close if needed. No running up and down stairs.” At Balin’s hesitant look, she smiled. “You can leave the guards with me, as I know it’s the only way your brother will be at peace.” 

Balin hmphed as he stood and mumbled something about his brother under his breath. He spoke with the guards, and one entered to stand watch, though he remained by the doorway. After checking with Rowan once more, Balin was on his way. 

The fire was crackling, filling the room with warmth and a soft light, and Thorin was softly snoring as Rowan took a moment to close her eyes and rest, and before long, she herself was fast asleep...

* * *

“Thorin! Wake up! You’re dreaming!” Rowan cupped the king’s cheeks in her hands and searched his face. His eyes were twitching under his lids, and he kept mumbling something about someone named Halla. His screaming had awoken her from her sleep, and she ran to him, not wanting him to further injure himself as he moved about. Rowan gently jostled him again, trying to ease his nightmare. The king’s eyes fluttered open, revealing slivers of blue against dark lashes. Rowan’s eyes held his as he tried to focus on her. 

“You are not her. Where is she?” The king whispered as his countenance dissolved into fear. “Where is Halla?” Thorin tried to lift his hand, but found the one was injured, and he howled in pain. 

“Thorin! It’s me! Rowan, remember? The witch? Stop moving!” She struggled with him to press his arm back, but he was so strong it was as if she was pushing against a wall. “You’re going to reopen your wound!” 

“Where is she?” Thorin wailed, oblivious to his injuries, as he began thrashing about. He easily flung Rowan off, and she screamed as she landed on the floor near the bed. The guard came forward and held Thorin down until the other guard could come and help. They spoke in that guttural language to their king, and finally, Thorin settled down, though his chest was heaving, and his brow was sweaty. Rowan tentatively approached him from the side. His blue eyes were wide and wary, darting around as he slowly came to his senses. 

“Thorin, it’s me, remember? We went to visit my home, and that warg attacked us?” Rowan moved closer, speaking softly. “You got attacked, and I had to get us back home, remember?” 

“You and I, we went together?” The king was breathless, and his eyes had closed again. Rowan inched closer, carefully, as if she were trying to catch a wild animal. 

“Yes. You got hurt, and we rode back on your horse. Do you remember?” 

Thorin just continued breathing heavily, the fist on his good arm clenching and unclenching as he tried to calm down. Rowan moved closer, past the watchful eyes of the guard. The two of them stepped back, though they kept a close watch on Rowan as she approached their king. 

“I’m going to touch your forehead, see if you have a fever, okay?” She tentatively touched his forehead and she flinched when he did at her touch. Her fingers lingered, and after a moment, he relaxed, and she relaxed, and gently caressed his skin. Mercifully, it didn’t appear as if there was any fever remaining. She continued stroking him, along his hairline, and down by his ears. “I think your fever’s all but gone.” 

“How long have I been like this?” Thorin whispered. Rowan watched as his breathing became softer, less labored, and his shoulders untensed as he eased down into the bed. Rowan nodded at the two guards, and they retreated back to their original posts: one outside, and one inside. 

“A few days. You are stronger than most, I’ll give you that.” Rowan pulled up the stool and continued stroking his brow. Thorin gave a ghostly smile. 

“I told you we dwarves were hardy.” 

“And now you’re being arrogant,” Rowan quipped, though she was smiling as well. 

“I’ve been called worse.” 

“I’m not surprised,” Rowan chuckled again. “How do you feel?” 

“Like I was chewed up and spit out by a warg.” Thorin grimaced. His eyes opened again, his gaze this time catching Rowan’s. “How bad is the damage?” 

Rowan was momentarily taken off-guard by the intensity of his stare but regained her bearing and replied: “Your leg is healing. The cuts on your chest and shoulder, they’re healing. It’s just your forearm that worries me. We’ll have to wait and see how it heals.” Rowan stood, and leaned over him to inspect his far arm, and in doing so, her breasts brushed against his bare, rock-hard chest, and at the feeling of that solid wall of heat pressed against her, she immediately jerked back. Her eyes darted to Thorin’s face, where she found him grinning like the devil. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment at his knowing look. 

“Careful, little one.” His deep voice, sleepy and warm and full of something else entirely wicked, rolled over her, and Rowan found herself moving away from him. 

“I think you’ll be fine.” Her voice was stiff, her spine even stiffer. She focused on a spot above his head at the far wall. “Do you require anything else of me, or can I be relieved?” 

“Are you sure you don’t need to check anything else?” 

The grin she could hear in his voice irritated Rowan to no end, and her annoyance with him resurfaced in full-force as she felt he was making fun of her. She cut her eyes at him, and with pressed lips stated: “Maybe you can call Halla in here to check your wounds?” 

Thorin’s face drained of color, his jaw gone slack, and Rowan knew immediately that she’d said something terribly wrong. She swallowed the painful lump in her throat and waited, her heart pounding in her chest with anxiety. Thorin’s mouth snapped shut and his jaw ticked, his eyes flashing with angry heat. 

“You are playing a dangerous game, witch. Get out.”

“Fine by me!” Rowan snapped at him, and not waiting for his reply, she walked to the door and flung it open. She turned back to Thorin and stared him down, her brow arched in challenge. “To my cell, or to my room?” 

“I don’t give a shit where you go, as long as it’s not here!” Thorin snapped back. He barked something at the guard, and then Rowan was ushered from the infirmary. Mercifully, she was taken back to her room, and it was there that she was left, alone, wondering what the hell had just happened. 

And more importantly, who was Halla, that the name could cause such a reaction in Thorin?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go...haha 
> 
> Poor Rowan. Sticking her foot right in her mouth, and has no idea she's done it.


	22. Chapter 22

After that evening, Rowan was not summoned to serve the king ever again. And in the following days, Thorin would get stronger and stronger, and Rowan would occasionally catch a glimpse of him as he made his slow trek through the corridors of Erebor, or across the great halls below. He walked with a cane as she’d advised, and truthfully, it was hard to see him moving so slow, but Rowan dared not approach him to see how he was. Not after she’d angered him the way she had. And she still had no idea what she’d done, and none would explain to her, with only Balin saying that it was for Thorin to explain, if – _and when_ — he wanted to. The only other person she'd asked was Kili, and he'd had no idea why Thorin would be angered at hearing Halina's sister's name. Rowan had meant to ask Halina about her sister and Thorin, but the female dwarf had mysteriously disappeared, to where Rowan knew not. 

And so, she’d let it drop, had forcefully put it out of her mind, and focused on herself and her work in Erebor. She knew the option of leaving the mountain was out of the question after having experienced what she did back at her home, as there was nothing to go back to, and for now, this was the safest place to be. She had accepted that this was her lot in life, at least for now. She had protection; Thorin didn’t bother her any longer, and for the most part, she was independent of most things. She spent time with Kili, and with the other dwarves, but Erebor was busy, and it was easy for her to go about her job and life with no interference as she got lost in the hustle of day to day living. More families were coming in by the day, and Rowan found herself being tasked out to help with sick children and the wounded, and so the days turned into weeks, and before she knew it, nearly a month had come and gone since she’d last talked to the king. 

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t wonder about him, and worry about how he was doing. If he needed her. Was his room filthy again? Was his wound being tended to properly? Had his stitches been removed? It was strange, to think on him in that way, and she tried not to dwell on it that much. She still had dreams about him from time to time, but she explained them away as best as she could, citing stress and anxiety, and all manner of things, and tried to not give them too much attention, either. He was a bad chapter in her life, and it appeared to be over, and it was time to turn the page and close that book. Or so she told herself…

After that last night when she’d angered him, she was no longer requested to bring him medicine personally, nor was she asked to see to him and tend his wounds. Balin and Oin would meet her in her room to make the concoctions there, and they would then be brought to the king, and despite her annoyance with Thorin, Rowan couldn’t help but feel somewhat rejected; _Her medicines were good enough for him, but she was no longer wanted in his presence?_

Despite how much she loathed him, it stung a little to be so…_ignored. _

The times she’d spent with him, when he’d been almost kind and approachable, for whatever crazy reasons, those stuck in her mind more than the beatings, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was so much more to him that she’d not yet seen…_or been allowed to see_. It was strange, how the mind played tricks, painted memories in different colors and tones, and made some things more important when others should be. She could vaguely remember being hit by him, but she could vividly, and with great detail, remember what it was like to have him hold her in his arms that night she'd helped his headache. She could somewhat still hear him yelling at her in his fury, could occasionally envision the way his eyes went wild with rage, but the memory of him clasping her mother’s necklace around her neck, and the tenderness he showed her that day as she searched the ruins of her home was as clear as day in her mind's eye. The way he’d fought that warg off, and protected her so valiantly? Well, all that she could recall, clearly, and it still caused her insides to flip a little, much to her dismay. 

And it didn’t help that she continued to have those blasted dreams about him, the ones where Thorin was nice and sweet and endearing, and he smiled at her with those mischievous blue eyes of his, and protected her in his strong arms. Those sweet dreams where they were laughing and joking and teasing, would diverge into more indecent ones, where she’d recall the image of the king in the bath, and how it felt to run her fingers through his hair. She had dreamed of running her hands along his naked back, and down his mighty chest, and wondered what the hair there felt like? The memory of his hard chest pressed against hers never failed to cause her breasts to peak in a painful, tingling hardness, which ultimately led to that burning ache between her thighs. Being a virgin, Rowan had no knowledge of intimate relationships, but she’d been educated enough by her mother to know that what she was feeling for Thorin – _what she_ _was dreaming about_ \- was some kind of twisted sexual desire, that made absolutely, positively no sense at all. Throughout their tumultuous time together, the dwarf king had woken something up within her, and it confused and unnerved her, because she was supposed to hate him after all he’d done. She needed to hate him, not lust after him, but the lines were blurring between what was right and wrong and she was so very confused...

She concluded that she must be going crazy. 

And she had no one to talk to. No one. Not even to Halina would she reveal her deepest secrets about Thorin Oakenshield. And so she kept them bottled up, deep inside, where they festered and grew, and drove her insane. 

Being in the royal wing, and having the opportunity to see him every day when she left for the morning, and possibly when she arrived back in the evening, was wearing on her nerves. And possibly driving her crazy. She never saw him up there, mind you, but the possibility was there, and it caused such a restless anxiety in her that she made sure to leave incredibly early, and made sure to arrive back to her room incredibly late - just so she could avoid him. The king was causing her so much unease, and she hadn’t even spoken to him in such a long time! And so, she began thinking that maybe she should get away from him, even further than separate rooms. He had no reason to keep her, did he? She’d not tried to hurt anyone and had in fact become a valuable member of Erebor. She'd finally thought about it long enough that she’d summoned enough courage to propose it to Balin over breakfast. If anyone would support her, it would be him. 

“I would like to request an audience with the king.” Rowan sipped on her tea, and waited, breath held. 

“Oh? And what will you speak with him about?” Balin lowered his own drink and eyed her closely. 

“Moving out of the royal wing.” 

“Really? And where will you go? I don't fancy the idea of you leaving, Rowan.” Kili frowned at her from across the table. It was the usual trio, her, Kili, and Balin eating breakfast as they usually did. Thorin seemed to take his food in his quarters, as he never appeared down her for breakfast, or any other meals. 

“Well, I’ve thought about it, and it only makes sense that I should move down here, where everyone else is. I spend most of my time down here, helping the residents. And I obviously can’t go back home, so that’s out of the question.” Rowan smirked. “And I have no interest in escaping, since I could’ve done that a million times by now.” 

“Down here?” Balin asked. “You mean, down in the residences, with the other families? Down to the communal areas?” 

“Yes,” Rowan nodded. “I mean, if there’s space, that is. I just think I could be more useful down here. Thorin doesn’t need me any longer, so I’m wasting time and space up there, when I spend all of my time down here anyway.” She hoped that her voice sounded confident and sure, and not unsure like she felt. 

“It does make sense,” Balin rubbed at his beard in agreement.

“So, you’re going to stay with us forever?” The younger dwarf smiled cheekily, earning a grin from Rowan. 

“Not forever, mind you, but for now. It only makes sense.” 

“I’m sure that can be arranged, but we must first get approval from the king,” Balin stated. He gave Rowan a smile. “I’ll run it by him this morn, and depending on what he says, we’ll arranage a meeting. I can’t guarantee he’ll go for it, but I’ll see what I can do. Sound good?”

“That sounds great, Balin!” Rowan smiled with gratefulness, and turned back to finish her breakfast, her hope that the discussion between Balin and Thorin would lend her the results she wanted. 

* * *

_“She wants to move out." _

Balin's words still irked him. 

Thorin sat at his desk, his eyes reading the same line in the contract that he’d read at least a hundred times already as he recalled Balin’s earlier conversation about the witch and her plans to move down into one of the lower residences. He couldn’t focus, and so he sat back, and pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to alleviate the throbbing in his face. Damned headaches were going to be the death of him, he was sure of it. 

When Balin had first approached him with Rowan’s proposition, his immediate response had been a firm denial.  
_  
She couldn’t be trusted, and she was a prisoner, remember?_

Balin had quickly shot all Thorin’s concerns down, reminding him that Rowan had not tried to escape once, nor had she tried to harm anyone, and in fact, was right now the most sought out healer in all of Erebor. She’d even been asked to see someone in Dale, but had denied the request due to not having Thorin’s permission to leave the mountain, much to the king's great surprise. As Balin had explained, all in all, Rowan had become a model citizen, and deserved to be treated as such. And, Balin had reminded him, she’d saved Thorin's life by ensuring he made it back to Erebor when he’d been so wounded by that warg, and she’d tended to him after, making sure the poison hadn’t take his life. If she wanted him dead, she would have seen it so, many times over now. Balin's voice of reason still grated on his nerves something fierce. 

He still wanted to say no, but found he couldn’t justify his denial, and so had sent Balin away under the guise of needing more time to think about logistics of housing another person when resources were already so strapped. But that was complete and utter bullshit, and he knew it. 

The truth was, he liked having her so close, even if they didn’t talk. Just knowing she was down the hall, safe and sound, and protected, somehow allowed him to sleep better at night. And he had no idea why he cared about her well-being, but he did. 

When she’d mentioned Halla’s name that night, it was true he’d seen red. He’d wanted to strangle her at first for being so callous, but later, after she’d gone, he’d wanted to call her back in and explain so that she could understand him. Because if she understood him, then maybe she could help him like she had multiple times before. He wanted to explain all of it to her, to lay his burden on her shoulders. Shoulders that appeared so thin and frail looking, but he was sure were strong enough to bear his pain. He’d not been able to speak about Halla’s death to anyone since it had happened, and it was such a weight...A heavy, suffocating sack that he wore about his shoulders, _and by Mahal,_ he yearned to set that heaviness down somehow. If just for a moment, he wanted to let someone else help him carry that load, and he somehow instinctively knew that Rowan would be strong enough to do so. She was not a dwarf, and she was not privy to all the war and loss as he had seen, and she would, therefore, perhaps be more objective. More open. He wanted to tell her about Fili, and about his grandfather, and his father, about losing Dis, and about all his failures as a son and brother and lover. She was an outsider, and though he’d been horrible to her in the beginning, perhaps she would see him differently because she had no knowledge of his people, save for rumors and gossip, and she would understand him and why he was the way he was. He didn't want to be this way, but grief and loss and war and vengeance had made him into the monster he was today. And every damn day was a battle that he fought, for his mind, and heart, and sanity, and he was so damn tired of it all. 

And Rowan was a healer. He’d experienced firsthand what it felt like to have her touch him, to soothe him, to ease his aches and pains, to help him sleep and escape his nightmares. And he was hesitant to let that go. To let her go. 

In the days since they’d not spoken, as he’d only left his room on occasion, he’d caught glimpses of her helping his people: His kin, his friends, and the residents of Erebor. Her free-spirt was infectious, and the sound of her deep, throaty laughter had only ever served to lighten his sour mood. He had heard nothing but good about her from everyone she came into contact with, and all the work she was doing in the stables and with the ponies, and now with the families. She was created to help, and help she did. She was so innocent, so unassuming, and yet he’d seen her fiery nature when he’d pushed her too far, or when she’d pushed him too far. Erebor could be dark, and damp, and depressing, especially now when they were still rebuilding, and Rowan came along, with her bright eyes and sweet disposition, and softened things. She was such a light in all this darkness, and while every bit of his mind and body and soul warned that he should avoid her, he couldn't help but be drawn to her brightness. 

And to think he’d tried to beat that out of her and failed. He frowned. Even after all he’d done to her, she remained sweet and kind and gentle to so many others. Even him. So many times, Thorin wondered how that was possible for her to not have become hardened by her own loss, and by his horrid treatment of her? How on earth had she maintained her positivity, when he’d enslaved her and kept her against her will? When he’d treated her as a criminal, how was she still so sweet and kind? 

Thorin sighed and lowered his head onto his hands as he pondered. 

The further she moved away, the better it would be for her. It would be, and he knew that. She deserved to find happiness, and he had no reason to deny her that goal. He wasn’t worried that she would try to leave Erebor any longer, not after her the incident at her family’s former home, but if she chose to leave, who was he to stop her? Any resident of Erebor was free to come and go as they pleased, as he was not running a prison, but a community. A kingdom. 

The other part of him, the one that continued to dream of her in the most obscene of ways, he would have to put that side of himself away. She did not deserve to be seen in such filthy ways, and he did not deserve her. She was much too good for someone like him, much too pure, and if he got involved with her, he would only sully her body and soul, destroy her like he did everything else he touched. He was older and wiser and more mature, and had lived experiences that she had not, and therefore the onus was on him to behave more appropriately. Any perverted desires he continued to have in regard to her were going to be kept in his own mind and dealt with in his own time.

He would corrupt her, just as he’d corrupted everything else, and she did not deserve that. 

The right thing to do would be to let her go, just as she wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sure hope what I'm trying to do makes sense here....


	23. Chapter 23

Rowan was granted a meeting with Thorin that very evening, much sooner than she anticipated, and she couldn't help but be worried that the talk Balin had with Thorin had failed. As she approached his door, her heart pounded in her chest, and her breathing was shallower than she hoped for, but it was now or never, and she needed to get it over with. She smoothed at her clothing, and then ran a hand over her hair, hoping she looked presentable, and then immediately wondered why she cared whether she was presentable or not. She pressed her hands at her sides and tried to focus on the task at hand. _Focus, Rowan!_ she told herself internally. 

“The king is waiting,” the guard informed her as he pushed the door open, and ushered Rowan inside. She stepped over the threshold, her heart rate increasing as she looked for him. After a few moments, she found him sitting in his chair near the fire, his head leaned back against the backrest, and she thought him asleep. It was so quiet after the door closed behind her, the silence only broken by the fire popping and crackling. Her heart pounded nosily in her ears. 

“My king,” Rowan did her best to curtsy, and she was thankful that he didn’t appear to see the mess she continued to make of it. She had come to the conclusion that she would never be good at doing that, and so she probably needed to not be around royalty as much as possible and save everyone the embarrassment. 

“I distinctly remember asking you to call me by my first name when alone, or have you already forgotten that in your long absence?” Thorin turned in his chair and gave her a tired smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. 

“Well, you told me to leave…Thorin,” Rowan muttered, but then regretted her words. She didn’t come here to fight; She came to be let go, and the last thing she wanted to do was make him mad enough to refuse her request. She started to speak again, but Thorin beat her to it. 

“You are right, and I apologize for my behavior that day.” Thorin slowly pushed himself up, picking up a burning lamp along the way to his desk. Rowan saw that he moved with only a slight limp now, and no cane. He lit more candles, and the room was not so dark any longer, and after he stopped at his desk, gesturing for Rowan to take a seat. She sat, and he followed suit. 

“You seem like you have recovered,” Rowan remarked as she cast a uncertain glance at him. She fiddled with a bracelet on her wrist, a twisted mess of ribbon and yarn that a child had given her. 

“All is well, Rowan,” Thorin nodded down at his arm. “It appears that you and Oin were exactly what I needed to heal from that beast’s poison. My leg is good, the only thing still bothering me at times is this arm, but I think it'll be fine before too long. Thank you again.” 

Rowan didn’t know what to say to that and settled with a smile and a nod in his direction. From the furtive glances she’d given the king, she could see he looked better, but still looked weary. 

“So, I know why you’ve come, and I won’t waste time. Balin tells me you have decided that you’d like to move down into the communal area, and to reside as a resident of Erebor.” Thorin tilted his chin at her, his blue eyes piercing in their intensity. “Is this true?” 

“Yes,” Rowan affirmed. “I just think I’d be more useful down there, since I spend most of my time below anyways, and I think I’m being helpful. I mean, I work with the families, and help in the kitchen, and lots of time at the stables. I try and stay as busy as possible, wherever I’m needed.” A hearing how shaky she sounded, Rowan took a breath, and forced herself to calm down, as she was talking entirely too fast as she tried to plead her case. She looked up at the king and found him watching her just as intently as before. She fought the urge to look away, and instead met his eyes head on. 

“What I mean to say is, I think I deserve to be let go. I’ve done everything you’ve asked and have tried to help as much as possible.” When the king remained silent, Rowan continued. “Balin explained that I could have a place in Erebor, down in the commons as you’ve said. I could have a home. Lily could remain in your stables, and I’d take care of her.” Rowan pressed her hands at her breasts as she pleaded. “She would not be a burden. I would not be a burden. I can help with healing and sickness, and with stable work, and you know I can clean. You would never even know I was here, lest we happen to run into each other in passing.” 

“You are not a burden,” came Thorin’s gruff reply. Rowan’s brows creased in confusion at his words, but before she could address them, Thorin went on. “Why not just leave Erebor? And go home? If I allowed that.” 

Rowan frowned as her eyes focused on his still-bandaged arm. 

“I don’t have a home, remember? And Kili advised me not to leave the safety of Erebor due to the continued raids. And believe me, I hate to admit it, but he's right. Would not be safe for me and Lily, not right now. I remember that warg, and how dangerous it was, and I can’t fight against that as you did. I’m not so dumb as to not recognize safety and protection when it’s given to me.” She looked down as she toyed with the fabric of her gown. “I mean, I don’t know that I would stay here forever, but for now. I’d like to remain.”

“So now you ask for a temporary home?”

Her eyes darted back up to his as her frustration began mounting with his word games. “Thorin, please. You have no reason to keep me here, and you know that.” Rowan felt herself bristling and tried to tamp it down. “I deserve to know why you are so hesitant to let me go, after everything.” 

Thorin remained stonily silent, his eyes drawn to some papers on his desk, and Rowan fought against the urge to slam her hands on his desk to get his attention. He was so damn infuriating. 

“What do you want from me, Thorin? Just be honest with me. You don’t like how I clean your room, so you fire me, and move me to the stables. Which I love, but I’m sure you’ll take that from me and move me again. You don’t want me to help you with your wounds anymore. I offended you somehow, I know it, but no one will tell me why. So now, I stay cooped up in my room, or working wherever I can. Trying to stay out of everyone’s way, especially yours, and even that is not good enough. So please, tell me, what is it you want from me?” 

“Perhaps I still don’t trust you outside these walls,” Thorin glowered at those same papers before him. 

“So, now it’s outside the walls. Before it was because you thought I had hurt Kili. When it wasn’t that, it was because you thought I would try and kill you—”

“You did try, or did you forget that, too?” Thorin accused.

“I haven’t tried anything since then, and you know it.” Rowan pressed forward, taking the risk. “I could have poisoned you that night I first helped your headache. I could have.” She shrugged as she fiddled with her fingernails. “The belladonna, it’s in my bag at this very moment. And all it would have taken was a few drops, and you’d be none the wiser.”

Thorin’s brow darkened, and his jaw ticked. “Are you threatening me?” 

Rowan’s eyes flashed with heat. “_Threaten?_ No! Are you even listening? I had the opportunity, and I didn’t. I’ve had plenty of opportunities! And, let’s be honest, I saved your life a few weeks ago! You do not need to fear me!” 

“What do you propose?” Thorin steepled his hands in front of him and waited. He knew what she was going to say before she said it, but he needed to hear it. Wanted to hear it come from her own mouth. 

“That you just let me go.” 

“No.” His denial was immediate. 

“I’m not asking you to let me go from Erebor, but from these halls! I’ve made friends in Kili and Balin, and Bofur and Bilbo, and the others.” She leaned closer, and lifted her chin. “You have no reason to keep me here. No reason at all, and you know it.”

“You would willingly remain in Erebor? Even after what I…” The king cleared his throat as he looked down again. “Even after our earlier meetings?” 

“That’s a delicate way to put it, isn’t it? Earlier meetings, indeed.” She couldn’t hide the derision in her voice, but knew she didn't want to argue with him. She closed her eyes, and took a breath, willing herself to focus on the end goal. “No, I haven’t forgotten what you did, and I can’t say that it doesn’t affect me still, because it does.” Rowan also tucked her head low. “But I’ve come to know you on some level, and with Kili’s assurance, I don’t think I’m in any further danger from you, or anyone else in Erebor. And that is more than I can say about outside these walls.” 

“Balin said he would secure you a dwelling?” Thorin toyed with his pen, turning it over and over in his fingers as he weighed her words out in his mind. 

“He did. Down near where Halina resides.” Rowan’s frown faded and she smiled. “And near others that work in the kitchen, other women.” 

“And you would be…content…there?”

“I have no family left to go back to. No home either. You know that better than anyone else. Kili reminds me of my brother, and Balin reminds me of my father. Halina and I, we could be fast friends, I think. And I need friends. I am not so naïve to think I could make it on my own. It’s not as peaceful as it was before, outside these walls, and I am ill-prepared for that.” 

“Why not go to Dale?” Thorin couldn’t help but ask. 

“I don’t know anyone there, Thorin.” 

“You do realize that if you were to do this, to become a member of my kingdom, that I would be responsible for your protection?” Thorin’s blue eyes had grown serious as he gazed at her again. Rowan nodded in understanding. 

“I will never be a thought in your mind. As soon as I am out of these halls, you will never see nor hear from me again, that’s how quiet I’ll be. You don’t have to worry about me in that way.” 

Thorin wanted to say no, to find something that would allow him to deny her request, and was wracking his brain, searching for any reason to say no, but found he had none. Considering all her explanations and ideas and well thought-out plans, the case to release her had been pled, and pled well; There was simply no reason to keep her holed up in this wing save for his own selfish ones that he was not yet ready to explore.

“Okay.” Thorin relented, steepling his hands in front of his stern face as he regarded her carefully. “But make no mistake, any ill will or intended treachery on your part, regardless of who vouches for you, will be met with swift punishment. Worse than last time.”

“I understand,” Rowan nodded at him. She was smiling, unable to hide how happy she was. 

“I hope that you do, and that you truly comprehend what you’re being offered. Within these walls, you have the protection you seek. Outside, you have none. And if you betray me, or my kin, or any resident of Erebor, I will throw you out without a second thought.” 

“I understand, and I promise not to disappoint!” Rowan breathed out as she clapped her hands in front of her. 

“Then go and fetch the guards.” 

Rowan did as he asked, and the two guards followed her in. They stood before their king, awaiting his orders. 

“Mistress Rowan will no longer be considered our prisoner, but our guest here in Erebor. As such, she no longer needs to be guarded as you’ve done thus far. She is free to go throughout Erebor, and wherever else she may choose, just as any other resident When she leaves here, one of you take her down to find Balin, and see that she finds a proper home. If you have any questions or problems in doing so, come to me. Or send Balin, and I'll handle it.” Thorin busied himself with the papers on his desk, and therefore, missed the grateful smile that Rowan aimed in his direction. 

“Thank you, Thorin,” Rowan smiled, and stood, but the king lifted his hand, halting her before she left the room. 

“I would have another word with you, before you leave.” He nodded at the chair, and Rowan sat back down in it. Thorin gestured to the guards to leave, and they did so, and the room quieted again, and then it was just Thorin and Rowan. Her heart thrummed in her chest at this new development, and she sat silent, waiting for him to speak. 

“Before you go, I wanted to…well, the truth is…” Thorin tugged at his collar, pulling it from his neck as if it were choking him. He appeared entirely uncomfortable as he continued. “The thing is, Rowan, I wanted to tell you that I am…that I have a great regret for how things….For what took place in the earlier parts of our…association.” 

“I don’t know what to say…” Rowan stammered. To say she was shocked was a complete understatement. _Was he apologizing?_ The king waved a hand in her direction, and continued. 

“Please don’t say anything…just…Let me do this. Please.” Thorin’s voice was gravelly, his tone dripping with regret. “I was wrong, Rowan. To treat you so harshly. And I have no reasonable excuse, no way to justify what I did to you, and I am so ashamed of myself. I have never sunk so low, and even now, I am horrified of how bad I got. Of how far I went to try and prove your wrongdoing. Please understand, I am not asking you to forgive me, nor do I expect you to ever forget what I’ve done to you. How I hurt you. I can give you excuses if you want, can tell you that I was not and am not myself, that I did it for my nephew. I can give you any variety of bullshit reasons, but the truth is, I am the monster you believe I am.” The king looked up at her, and Rowan saw how haunted his eyes were, how much he hated himself, and her heart lurched in her chest at his obvious pain and self-loathing. 

She swallowed the lump in her throat and waited for him to go on. 

“All the terrible things you think about me are true. I am a monster. And because of that, you are right in that I need to let you go. You are too good for this place, and you do not need to be around such horrible things. You do not need to be around me.” The king lowered his head to look down at his desk again, each time seeming to sink lower and lower in his chair. “After all this, war and fighting and death and destruction, people deserve to be happy. And I cannot take that from you, or anyone else, no matter how I attempt to justify it in my mind.” 

“Thorin, I—”

“Please, Rowan. Just let me…finish. Before I lose my courage, let me say what must be said.” Thorin remained looking at the desk, his dark hair spilled around him, making him look utterly ashamed. “I am sorry about the death and destruction I brought on your family, and you have every right to want me dead. You had every right. I have failed in so many ways, and failed so many people, and believe me when I say no one is more disgusted with me than I am. My nephew died because of me, and not a day goes by that I don’t wish it was me, and not him that had been taken so early.” The king finally looked up, and Rowan would swear that his eyes were teary, but it was hard to tell in the dim light. She wanted to console him; Some part of her wanted to go to him, and try to ease his suffering, but another part of her couldn’t help but feel justified at finally getting an apology. 

“Please understand, I will not bother you again. After all I’ve put you through, I hope that the least I can do is provide you with a safe home, and perhaps a fulfilling life here in Erebor.” Thorin took a deep, shaky breath. “But should you want to leave here, and move elsewhere, I will support that also. And any amount of money you need, I will take care of that. You need not worry about anything, from this point forward. The least I can do to make it up to you is ensure things are better for you from here on out. All you must do is ask - Balin or Kili, they will get the message to me, and make it so.” 

They sat in a heavy silence for a few moments, the earlier happier mood evaporated in the midst of so much sadness.

Rowan’s heart ached deep in her chest, and she was so very confused. She hated him. She should be railing at him, letting him have it, so to speak, for treating her so bad and finally realizing it, but all she felt at this moment was pity. She hurt for the hurt he was feeling, and she had no idea why. He had beaten her so badly, and treated her so wrong, so why on earth should she feel anything but hatred for him? Rowan took her own shaky breath and blinked back the tears that she wasn’t even aware had filled her eyes. Thorin was still looking down at his desk, only this time he had placed his hands at his forehead. Rowan could see the bandage still wrapped on his forearm. 

“I did want you dead, Thorin. I did. And somedays, I still do. And I will never forget what you did to me, and I know the scars will remain for a long time. Maybe not on my back as long, but on my heart, and on my soul. I’ve never been hurt the way you hurt me, and I hope I will never be hurt like that again. But I forgive you, I do. I want you to know that I forgive you for it.” Rowan brushed her hand at her cheek, cursing herself for being so emotional that she was crying. “It does me no good to hold onto this forever, nor does it do you any good to hate yourself for it. What’s done is done, and now we have to move on.” She stood, steeling her spine. “And I know you think you’ve lost everything, but you didn’t. You still have a family, Thorin. You have Kili, and Balin, and the others. You have a kingdom full of people that look up to you for guidance and support. You cannot let them down.”

Thorin only nodded his head, his eyes never meeting hers as he continued staring down at his desk.  
  
“So, if you are being honest, and truly want to make it up to me, and Kili, and your lost nephew and family, then do what is right, and be the king you are supposed to be. Not your father, and not your grandfather, but who you are meant to be, Thorin.” Rowan’s voice cracked on his name. “Even though I can’t touch you and feel you like I do others, I know there is a good man inside you. I know there is, but you can’t see past all the bad you’ve seen, and all the terrible things you’ve done, to see him. You can’t move out of your own way long enough to let him out.” 

“That is a fool’s dream,” Thorin hissed bitterly. 

“Then I guess I’m a fool, because I see that man, Thorin. In you. I see him.” Rowan walked to the door. “Balin sees your potential, and Kili, and the others. Your kingdom, your people. They love you, Thorin. I have heard them speak so highly of you. They all see how great you can be." She placed her hand on the handle. "And I only hope one day you will see it too.” 

And with those parting words, Rowan walked out of his door...and out of his life, leaving Thorin alone with the only things that had never, ever left him, and probably never would: his constant companions - the darkness that lurked around the edges of his sanity, the hateful voices that screamed his name, and the regret that clawed at his soul - remained. Thorin lowered his head back into his hands, and sat, waiting for what, he knew not. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I was so sad writing this. I'm sorry. Too much Blue October. But I am glad that Thorin bent his knee. I hope it's not too late. Curious to see what you all think!
> 
> And thank you all for reading and commenting. It makes my day! I hope you continue to enjoy it!


	24. Chapter 24

**So you fake it 'til you make it,**   
**Consistency the yolk.**   
**If you live like someone's watching you**   
**You'll be the egg that never broke.**   
**No more screaming, "Someone, save me",**   
**No more echoing the fail.**   
**Where there's wind, be a hurricane.**   
**Cut the anger, set the sail,**   
**Set it, set it, set sail.**   
  
  
**Time changes everything.**   
** _So remarkable._ **   
**Time changes all.**   
**Time changes everything,**   
**But be careful what you wait for...**

* * *

It was going on a month when she would have any kind of conversation with the king again. 

Late one morning, Rowan was in her home down in the common areas of Erebor, curled up in her bed with a book the hobbit had left her. It was here that small homes were carved out of the mountain, side-by-side, and nearly similar in structure, save for a few variances. Some had multiple bedrooms, kitchen and dining areas, and family rooms. Rowan’s small home was nothing more than a large room, and in that large room, she had her bed, table, kitchen area, bathing tub, and apothecary area, complete with another small table and drying rack. It was small, and Balin had offered her bigger quarters, but she had politely declined.

_Bigger families needed bigger homes,_ she’d told him, as she was aware that more families would be coming home from the Blue Mountains and refilling the mountain.

Rowan was housed near Halina’s place, and two other female dwarfs, one by the name of Lofala, and another named Yurrana. Rowan had become friends with them all, the other two more than Halina actually, who was noticeably absent of late more times that not. Rowan had no idea where she disappeared off too, and she'd still not been able to ask about her sister, and why it caused such a reaction in Thorin. But Rowan needed female company more than she cared to admit, and so she had become close with the other two females in Halina's stead. And even though they were dwarves, she felt more comfortable with them than she would have down in Dale, she was sure of it. 

Ever since Thorin had agreed to let her move out, she'd set out to prove her worth as a resident of this kingdom. She spent her days working in the mountain, helping in the kitchen occasionally, but mostly attending to minor wounds and illnesses and such that she could clear up with herbs. Families would call on her as needed, or she would make rounds and check on them. She also frequented the stables, as Lily was housed there, and helped clean there when needed. She kept to her own. Ate in her room, bathed in her room, and spent all her free time, in her room. The only time she was seen was when she was summoned for help, when she was spending time with her friends – in their homes, or when Kili or the other dwarves would visit her. Kili’s visits had become infrequent, and she forgave him as she knew he was engaged fully with Tauriel, and with the going-ons in the mountain. Balin explained that he was busier with being the king’s advisor and managing the housing situation and day to day activities in Erebor as the families continued to flood in day by day. 

Rowan occasionally went down to the River Running to take Lily for a walk, and to enjoy the sunshine. She had never ventured to Dale, as she was not sure she could handle being there on her own. Maybe one day she’d ask to accompany Balin on one of his trade negotiations, but she was still on the fence with that. Those people in Dale were the people from Lake-Town, and many of them knew her family, even if they didn’t know her. She didn’t want to explain what had happened, and she didn’t want to recreate the life her family had, serving Lake-Town and Dale. Overall, she was happy here in Erebor with her small home and humble life. It was peaceful and quiet, and met her needs and all that she desired. 

There was only one person that she’d not spoken to since she left the royal wing, and that was the king himself. Sure, she’d seen him from afar. She’d seen him at breakfast many times, eating with Dwalin and other dwarves that she didn’t know. She’d seen him when he’d ridden though the gates, dirty and bloody from some battle he’d fought with his warriors against who knew what. She’d watched as he helped to haul in their deceased kin, and escort back the living wounded. She’d seen him working on a broken bridge down at the river once, and she’d frowned when she’d seen the weight he was bearing on his back in doing so. She’d seen him walking through the communal area, down here, assessing and inspecting as Balin and other advisors flanked him with various papers and blueprints and all manner of kingly business. Yes, she’d seen him, but she had not spoken to him in over a month, and a small part of her didn't like it one bit. 

The truth was, she worried about him.

_She did._ She was scared to ask Balin or Kili about him outright, but Balin would offer her information freely. He seemed to recognize in her the need to know about Thorin’s health, whether she would validate that truth with him or not. Balin had told her, that in his opinion, Thorin was doing better. He’d stopped drinking as much and was out of his room more often. He didn’t seem to spend as much time in the treasury and had in fact turned that duty over to the other members of his council to manage. The king was attending all the meetings and had been participating actively. 

“And I think he’s begun truly grieving the loss of his nephew,” Balin had informed her at one of his latest visits, just last night to be exact.

“What do you mean?” Rowan asked. 

“He’s gone down to the burial vaults more frequently. I think he’s making peace with what happened, with both his nephew and with himself. In his own time, mind you, and in his own way, but I do believe he’s making strides towards healing.” Balin winked at Rowan. 

“Does he go alone, or do you go with him? Does Kili go? Down to visit his nephew, does he go alone?” Rowan worried her fingernail with her teeth. The idea of Thorin being down there, grieving alone didn’t sit well with her. 

“I’ve offered to accompany him, but he turns me down. Stubborn ass,” Balin chuckled. “But I think he’s healing in the ways he needs to.” 

“I am glad for it,” Rowan smiled, honestly. She _was_ glad to hear that Thorin was doing better, because even he deserved to be happy. 

“Someone must have said something to him, to light such a fire under him,” Balin mused, earning a curious glance from Rowan.

She didn’t address it, and Balin didn’t press, and they went on with their visit without any further talk of Thorin Oakenshield. Despite how terrible she felt physically (she must have caught something from someone she was working on) Rowan would spend the rest of her day with something akin to a smile on her face, and it was entirely due to the knowledge that Thorin was trying to take care of himself.

That he was becoming better. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I just can't wait any longer. Something has to give, so here we are! 
> 
> Time changes everything ~ Blue October 
> 
> Let me hear your thoughts!! 
> 
> xoxoxoxoxo ~ Crazytxgradstudent


	25. Chapter 25

It was true: Thorin was becoming better, day by day. 

Well, hour by hour, or even minute by painstaking minute, would be a better descriptor, if one were keeping track of the slow progress the king was making as he navigated his way through his grief and loss, and the subsequent lingering dragon sickness. All the while trying to run a kingdom to the best of his abilities. It was weary and it was hard, but it was worth it, because even he could see that he was making progress. He didn’t know when he’d decided to change, or how he’d managed to roll himself out of that cavernous black hole he was in, but one day, he just did. He didn’t know why, he just did. 

He had relinquished control of the treasury to Gloin, and to another appointed council member, and had himself only been down to the treasury one time in the past month that Rowan had left his royal wing. He could recognize that being away from that gold – _physically being out of its_ _intoxicating presence_ – was doing remarkable things for his psyche. He spent much of his time doing physical labor as much as possible, anything that would take his mind off things that could be delegated to, and instead focused his attention on those things that were more fitting for his own self-improvement and personal betterment. He had not been drinking as much and had only been consuming alcohol when in the presence of his kin and friends, though he would occasionally have a glass of something with his dinner. 

And it was not in any way - at least he hoped - him being selfish. In fact, it was him trying to be entirely unselfish, and do just as the witch had said: _become who he was meant to become._ He had no right to let Erebor continue to struggle and flounder about, not when he’d been given so many second chances, and with those chances, so much responsibility. Not when his kingdom had such a great opportunity to prosper, to live, and to be better. True, he had lost so much, but did he not still have so much to live for? He reminded himself of that truth daily. Every time he struggled to crawl out of bed in the early mornings, or tried to sleep with his pounding headaches that had yet to leave him, he recounted his reasons why he must press on. Rowan's words were stitched into the very fabric of his mind, his own personal mantra, and he intended to see it through. 

Thorin was sat at a common table in the great hall, breaking his fast with Dwalin and Balin as he prepared to start his day. He watched over the rim of his cup, his eyes searching for her from under dark lashes. 

He’d first caught a glimpse of her down here a few weeks back when he’d first ventured out, and ever since, he’d made a point of starting his day with at least trying to see her. Even if she didn’t talk to him – _and she never, ever did_ – at least he wanted to see her. And, more importantly, a part of him wanted _her to see him,_ down here, doing better. Doing what she’d asked him to do. Joining the land of the living, and not wallowing in his self-pity as he had been. She had unknowingly become his motivation to do the right thing. Besides, he reminded himself, she was under his watch now, and it was his duty to ensure the safety of all of Erebor’s residents. 

“The burglar has gone, aye?” Dwalin chewed on his bread and eyed his king. 

“Left this morning,” Thorin nodded. He continued scanning the through the crowds, searching. “It is for the best. He was not happy here and longed to go back to the Shire.” 

“Aye, he was out of place here in the mountain.” Dwalin agreed. 

“Bilbo was a valued member of our family, and of our company, Dwalin. Do not forget the help he gave us, many times over.” Thorin reminded. “And, he is my friend.” 

Dwalin chuckled good-naturedly. “Rest easy, Thorin. I am not tearing down our burglar, and I appreciate his help. I do. I just know that he was aching to get back to his books and comfy armchair.” The dwarf warrior smiled fondly, but then frowned. “He always did fancy those books of his. I only wish he would've not slunk off in the dead of night though, little bugger! I would've like to have said a proper goodbye.” 

“He's a burglar! And not much for goodbyes.” Balin smiled, wistfully. “Gandalf will ensure his safety back to Hobbiton, though, so we shan’t worry about his fate. And worry not, brother, for I don’t believe we’ve seen the last of our hobbit. Bilbo has seen a bit of the world, and I don’t believe he’d be content with gardening and afternoon tea for the rest of his life and not having anymore adventures.” 

“No, he will not,” Thorin agreed as he set his warm drink down. His countenance clouded as his searching eyes found nothing. He’d still not seen her this morning, and in fact, it had been three mornings thus far that he’d not caught a glimpse of Rowan, and this final day was more than he was comfortable with brushing off. He needed to ask the question that he was too embarrassed to ask, and so found a way around it. 

“How are things down in the residences, Balin? Are the families getting along well? Settling in? Getting medical care as needed?” He lifted his cup and took a sip, trying his best to appear disinterested. 

“Aye, they are. The homes are filled, and people are back to work. Trade is booming. The repairs on the lower level are all but complete, and I’d say we are structurally sound at least. If not fully functional.” Balin swallowed down the last of his drink and cut sly eyes at his king. “But I do not think you care so much about those families, as you are beating around the bushes about our newest healer’s whereabouts.” 

Thorin’s lips pressed and his cheeks heated with immediate regret at asking such a question. Dwalin’s smile faded as he cut narrowed eyes at his king, but he didn’t press the issue. 

“I care about all of my people, Balin. The witch included.” Thorin set his cup down with more force than he intended. 

“Well, you might not have heard this from me, but she was being treated for her own sickness by Oin just yesterday. I visited with her, and she wasn't feeling that well. It appears Rowan has caught some illness, herself, though it shouldn’t surprise anyone, given those she works with and spends all of her time with. It was bound to happen eventually.” 

“Why did no one tell me she was ill?” Thorin asked, his voice gone low. 

“Are we to come to you with all the sick people in the kingdom, Thorin, or just certain ones?” Dwalin couldn’t help asking with a huff of annoyance. He didn’t like it one bit that Thorin was in any way preoccupied with this witch, and he would be the voice of reason if his idiotic brother would not be it. At seeing the king turn a glare in his direction, he followed up his question with: “I am sure she is quite fine. Oin knows what he’s doing, so best leave him to his job. I wouldn’t worry with it.” 

“Your sarcasm is most annoying, Master Dwalin.” Thorin snapped. “Share it with someone else.” 

And with that, Thorin pushed away from the table, entirely done with eating, and even more done with these two dwarves. He had another thing to do now, and it had to be done right now, before any other things, and before another minute passed. 

* * *

** _Bang! Bang! Bang! _ **

“Yes?” Rowan croaked as she sat up in her bed and stared at her door across the room. 

Good grief. She was so tired, and really, she just wanted to sleep. The medicine Oin had provided took away her throat pain, and the tea she created herself made her sleepy, and the last thing she wanted today was to see anyone. She lay back down and pulled the blankets up to her chin to ward off her chill, paying that whoever it was would think she was out and would just go away. 

_No such luck. _

The blasted knocking came again, and this time, she grew frustrated and flung the covers off, knowing she’d have to get up and go see who it was. She grabbed her robe, and wrapped it around herself as she headed to her door. Before she opened it, she cleared her face of her agitation and forced herself to appear not so annoyed as she pulled the door open. 

She nearely slammed it in the face of the individual on the other side, and only just caught herself before she did just that. 

The King Under the Mountain, Thorin Oakenshield himself, smiled down at her, his arms laden with food and what else she knew not. 

“Thorin! I mean, my king!” Rowan tugged the robe around her. “Is something wrong?”

“Just Thorin, is fine. May I come in? I come bearing supplies,” the king nodded down at his arms. 

“Of course!” Rowan opened the door wider and stepped aside so he could enter. 

“On the table, I guess?” Thorin asked over her his shoulder. Rowan nodded and he set the items down before turning back to her. “I heard you were ill.” 

“Oh,” Rowan breathed out as she attempted to find some response. She was still not recovered from seeing him like this, so close and looking so much better. His skin was clear, his eyes so brightly blue, his cheeks high with healthy color. He was clad in the royal colors of Erebor, and seeing him so powerful looking and so full of authority, was quite simply breathtaking. The king stepped closer, his azure gaze searching her face. 

“Have you been treated?” 

“Oin has assisted me, yes,” Rowan nodded. “It’s just a fever and sore throat, nothing terrible.” Rowan looked past him to the table. “What’s all that?” 

“A little bit of everything the kitchen could provide on my way out this morning.” Thorin appeared uncharacteristically sheepish as he gave a half-smile that could only be called adorable. “Some fruit, some bread and cheeses. Some kind of jam. A little bit of meat. I did not bring tea, since no one in that mountain can make it as well as you.” His smile widened as if he’d just remembered something. “ And I had to include a few of Bombur’s famous chocolate cakes. Just for good measure, you know.” 

“You have chocolate here?” Rowan couldn’t hide the delighted grin that broke out. “My mother would make sweets from cocoa beans, but they were always scarce, especially after the trade went bad.” 

“Well, ‘tis a good thing I brought you two cakes then, isn’t it?” Thorin crossed his arms over his chest and gave her wink. Rowan smiled back, unable to comprehend the change in Thorin. She watched as he looked around her humble home and gave her an appreciative smile. “You’ve done well here, Rowan. Just as you’ve said you would.” 

“It’s not much, but it’s mine. And I am happy here, so thank you for allowing me to stay.” She cinched the robe at her waist, and waited for him to speak. 

“I am glad you have remained,” Thorin murmured in that deep voice of his as his gaze remained on her. Under her robe, Rowan broke out in a fresh set of goosebumps, and she couldn’t hide her shiver,; Thorin’s eyes narrowed as he caught it. 

“Well, I must let you get back to bed, or resting. I did not come here to burden you, Rowan.” Thorin made his way to the door. 

“You do not burden me,” Rowan tossed at his back, earning a sweet smile from Thorin as he turned back to her. They both knew they were recalling those words the last night they’d seen each other. “You are welcome here any time, Thorin.” 

Thorin didn’t know what to say to that, and so instead, he gave an awkwardly noncommittal grunt and a nod, and took his leave. Rowan remained stood there, her lips still etched in a smile as she watched the door close behind him. After a few moment, she walked to the table and grabbed her chocolate cakes and headed back to her bed, and climbed in.

What could be better for healing a cold than a book, her soothing tea, and some delicious chocolate?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love happy things. 
> 
> So sue me!
> 
> (Not really, don't sue me, 'cause I am broke hahaha)
> 
> Anyways, curious as always to hear some thoughts on all these changes.


	26. Chapter 26

Thorin stomped through the communal areas, his heart pounding his chest, and mind all twisted up with confusion. He pressed a hand at his forehead and sighed as he continued walking away. His head was lowered and his eyes downcast to avoid any gazes head-on. 

He had no business going to visit Rowan in her personal home like that, none at all. He knew if from the moment he left the dining table and made his way to the kitchen that it would cause a ruckus. As it were, he had already caught curious looks from other residents when he’d stepped out, and stood there on her doorstep, one hand on his hip, and one on his jaw as he tried to gather his bearings. He’d glared at the folks giving him curious looks, and his stern countenance was enough to send most of them back into their homes and out of his sight. But he knew how gossip was, and he was sure before long he’d hear something from someone about his personal visit to the witch. Annoyed, he stomped away, trying to leave thoughts of her back at her home, but found he could not escape them for long. 

The sight of Rowan, wrapped up in a blanket, and looking so adorably unkempt had been enough to make his heart stutter a little in his chest upon first seeing her. His frown grew. He felt like a teenager, completely not in control of his emotions, and more importantly his damned hormones. He could not remember a time that he'd felt so...affected. Even with Halla, he'd not felt flutters like that. It was hard for him to admit that, and made him feel guilty, but the truth was the truth. He had not expected to experience such a confusing set of emotions at seeing her after so long, and had in fact, hoped that whatever insane thoughts he’d previously had about her would have been extinguished after such a long time apart. 

The witch was sick, for goodness sake! 

What business did he have seeing her in such a light as he’d just done? 

The image of her messy hair cascading around her shoulders, her cheeks pink with what he would assume was a fever, lips plumped in a pout, and those enchanting eyes of hers –he simply could not get them out of his mind. From the moment he’d entered her home, he wanted to scoop her up, hold her in his lap, and soothe away all of her sickness, to comfort her as she’d comforted him, to help her in the ways that she’d helped him. His fingers itched with the very thought of having her so close to him, and part of his reasoning for leaving so early from her was that very idea of taking her in his arms was becoming stronger than he wanted to admit. And he certainly didn't want to do anything foolish around her. The girl was terrified of him, still; He could feel it. 

“Damn it all to hell,” Thorin grumbled as he rounded the corner, and saw Dwalin from across the way, standing with a set of dwarves that worked in construction. He took a few deep breaths and made his way over to his friend. 

“Well, here he is!” Dwalin exclaimed. “Where’ve you been, laddie? We’ve got work to do down on that bridge.” 

“I had business to attend,” Thorin hedged, still entirely too grumpy for anyone's good. 

“Might I ask where you’ve been attending to business?” Dwalin crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing his king with curiosity. 

“No, you may not,” Thorin snapped back. “We need to get to work.”

And with that, Thorin stomped off, his shoulders tense as he made his way out of Erebor. Dwalin shook his head, but followed his king.

* * *

That next morning, Rowan had finally felt well enough to take a bath and clean up, and leave her home. As she walked through the gates and out into the late afternoon, her feet carried her to the stables as they always did. She needed fresh air, and she needed sunlight, so she was going to make it a point to get outside more. While she loved the quiet of the mountain, she also missed feeling the sun on her face when she worked outside. The thought again occurred to her that maybe one day she’d move to Dale, simply for the fact that it was outside. One day. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” Rowan murmured as she made her way to Lily. The pony neighed, and nuzzled at her chest, her lips whispering against Rowan’s clothing in search of food. Rowan giggled, and secretly produced an apple. She offered it to the pony, who gladly began munching. “You have to be quick, silly girl. I’ve only brought one this time. And this is from the king himself, so it is a special apple!” 

Rowan stood, petting Lily for a while, and just soaking in the comfort of familiarity. 

“Good afternoon, Rowan,” the deep voice interrupted Rowan’s time with her pony. She turned, offering the dwarf a welcoming smile. 

“Hello, Dazmir! How are you?” Dazmir was one of the farrier's that worked it the stables, and she'd come to call him friend after seeing him daily. 

“I am better now that I’ve seen my favorite stable hand come back to visit.” The dwarf moved closer, and Rowan saw the playful, teasing glint reflected back at her from his moss-green eyes. “Where have you been, if I may ask?” 

“I was not feeling well. Think I caught something from someone and had to take a few days to rest.” Rowan frowned. “How have things been here? Did I miss anything?” 

“You did indeed,” Dazmir grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Someone from Dale had a pony that they assumed was too fat, and brought it here so that it could be turned out to pasture with the rest. Well, the pony was actually pregnant.” Dazmir jerked his chin towards the back of the stable. “Follow me, Rowan.” 

Rowan followed, her hands clasped at her chest in anticipation at seeing a baby horse. Dazmir took her to the end of the stables, and it was there that she saw the baby with its mother. 

“Oh my!” Rowan cried as she dropped down to her knees to see through the stall door better. “It’s beautiful! Boy or girl?” She looked up at Dazmir. 

“It’s a little girl, Rowan.” Dazmir rested one hand on the doorframe. “And we haven’t named her yet. Thought we’d wait for you to come back, and see what you thought?” 

“Is she all brown like that?” Rowan twisted her head to see better. The foal lay curled up against her mother's legs, her little head resting against the fresh hay. 

“All brown.” 

“What about Cocoa?” Rowan smiled. “She looks like a little cocoa bean from here.” 

“Your call. You want to call her Cocoa, we’ll call her Cocoa.” Dazmir smiled down at Rowan. "Do you want to go inside and see her? Molly is mom, and she’s very welcoming.” 

“I do!” Rowan jumped up, waiting for Dazmir to open the door, and when he did, she slowly entered the stall. She carefully visited with the mother pony first before making her way to the baby, and knelt down beside the newborn foal. She ran her hands over the baby’s hair, delighting in the feel of the softness of a new baby. She smiled up at Dazmir as he also entered. 

“She is beautiful.”

“Aye, she is,” Dazmir agreed, though he wasn’t looking at the horse or the foal, but at Rowan. Feeling the silence stretch, Rowan’s eyes met his, and she blushed, and looked away, the action not going unnoticed on the dwarf. “I’m sorry, I get carried away and my mouth just starts going without my brain. Please forgive me, Rowan, if I made you uncomfortable in any way. It was not my intention.” 

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It’s just that I’m just not used to receiving compliments like that, and honestly I don’t know how to take them.” She gave a shy smile back at Dazmir, and began to see him in a different light. He was a handsome dwarf, with his sandy-blonde hair and dancing green eyes. He smiled back in relief, revealing a dimple on his left cheek. 

“Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but I cannot believe a lady such as yourself hasn’t been asked for her hand a hundred times over,” Dazmir shook his head, earning a giggle from Rowan. 

“My family sheltered me very much. And I didn’t have much interaction with anyone outside of my kin. Especially not men, or dwarves.” She rubbed her hand up and down the foal’s back, toying with the velvety soft hair. “Until now.” 

“And is that something you would be interested in?” Dazmir wondered aloud. 

Rowan worried with her lower lip, her brows creased as she tried to push away the image of Thorin that immediately sprung to her mind. Why was he bothering her, here and now? She glanced at Dazmir again from the corner of her eye, but all she could think about was Thorin in his royal blue tunic, sounding so in-control and so commanding, his deep voice like a warm husk against her body. Dazmir was handsome indeed, but there was no comparison to the king. None at all. She swallowed the lump of nerves in her throat, knowing she needed to put Thorin aside. And why she even thought of him in that light, after all he’d done, she had no idea. Why she still dreamed about him, worried about him, she couldn't fathom. She must be crazy, indeed. 

“Rowan?” Dazmir worried. “Have I offended you? I have, haven’t I.” The dwarf’s shoulder’s slumped in regret. “I knew it was folly when I decided to speak so out of turn. I just haven't seen you in a while, and I just got excited. Please, forget I said anything.” 

Rowan stood and pressed her hand at Dazmir’s forearm. There was no threat to feeling his emotions, as she’d taken to wearing gloves in order to prevent just that. She squeezed his forearm lightly. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t offend me, okay?” She frowned, uncomfortably remembering the words she and Thorin had exchanged, again. She pushed him out of her mind, and smiled at Dazmir. “We’re still friends, right?” 

“Are you sure?” Dazmir asked soflty. 

“I would be unhappy if we weren’t!” Rowan teased, shaking his forearm with her fingers. “Please don’t let this ruin our friendship. I have so few friends here.” 

“I think you have more friends than most, Rowan,” Dazmir tugged his arm from her, and regarded her carefully. Rowan gave him a confused look. 

“What do you mean?”

“I heard the king himself comes to visit you and that he bears gifts.” Dazmir's tone appeared to be laced with jealousy, and Rowan found it immediately annoying. 

The crease between Rowan's brows grew with annoyance. “I was sick, and he brought me some supplies. As any good king would do for his people. Why? Is someone saying something otherwise?” 

Dazmir shrugged. “I can only relay what I’ve heard. But the rumor is the king is consorting with you, and you with him.” 

Rowan snorted in disbelief. “Well that’s absolutely not true! Thorin Oakenshield has no interest in me, nor I in him. So whatever people are saying, whoever it is that’s gossiping, they can all just stuff it!” 

“Are the rumors true, Rowan? We’re friends, and I would like to know.” Dazmir stepped closer. “Did he imprison you, and beat you? Accuse you of hurting his nephew?” 

“Why does that matter?” Rowan muttered as she sat down on a nearby stool. “Why does any of that matter any more? It was so long ago, and we have made peace with each other.” 

“So, he did do it,” Dazmir deduced, earning a pointed glare from Rowan. “So why in the world have you remained in Erebor? Are you still a prisoner?”

“No! I’m not a prisoner!” Rowan spat, angered at this conversation. “Thorin and I had a rough beginning, we did. He treated me as he would any prisoner, and he thought I hurt his nephew. And yes, the rumors are true – he beat me, relentlessly. It was terrible, what I went through, and I still have nightmares about it, but I have forgiven him. It was my own choice to do so, and I am at peace with that. We have come to an agreement, and I chose to remain in Erebor, if you must know. Of my own accord, and my own free will.” 

Dazmir could only shake his head. “I don’t know how you can support him, live in his kingdom, and remain a resident after all of that.” 

“And I don’t know why you are doubting him,” Rowan shot to her feet. “Has he not secured Erebor? Has he not protected you, and these lands, and these people from all sorts of terrible things? Do you have any idea what he’s lost in his endeavor to reclaim this place you so casually call home? And if you dislike him so much, why not go outside the walls and set up your home there? Believe me, it is much safer in here than it is out there.” 

“You defend him,” Dazmir breathed out, incredulous. “As if you are forgetting it all.” 

“I am not defending him,” Rowan denied. “But I will not forget all the good he has done, in light of the bad. All the good he is trying to do. People can and do change.” She lifted her chin in the dwarf’s direction. “And if you call yourself a resident of Erebor, a true resident, then you will find some way to support your king, and worry not about matters that don’t affect you. What happened between the king and I happened between us. Not you, and not anyone else, and it is no one's business but mine and his. ”

After saying her peace, Rowan stomped off, leaving Dazmir with his mouth hanging open in shock as he watched her go. She was seething, her face flushed and insides churning with anger at the conversation she’d just had. She above anyone else had all the reason in the world to hate Thorin Oakenshield, but he was trying to do better. _He was doing better._

How could his own people want to see the bad in him, and forgo the good? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, this is what Rowan said in my head. I wasn't anticipating it go this way, but the heart does funny things when it's moving in different directions. I hope you all go easy on me haha
> 
> I am very much getting a Leonidas and Gorgo vibe from the way Rowan is kinda defending Thorin. We'll see where it goes.
> 
> And what do you think about Dazmir?


	27. Chapter 27

That evening, another knock came at her door, and Rowan couldn’t deny the flutters that came in anticipation of it being Thorin. And because of that nervous hope, she couldn’t hide the frown that appeared when she opened it and saw that it was not Thorin, but Dazmir standing there. His face fell at the look on her face. 

“Still mad at me?” He lowered his head. “I’ll leave. I’m sorry to bother you.” He made to turn away, but Rowan called out to him.

“No, I was just not expecting a visitor this late. Please don’t go, Dazmir.” She gave him a smile when he turned back. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive.” Rowan nodded. “What can I help you with?” 

“Well, I’ve come to say I’m sorry for earlier.” The dwarf pressed a handful of flowers in Rowan’s direction, his cheeks growing redder by the second as he did so. Rowan accepted them, and stepped back into her home to allow him to enter. She placed the flowers in a vase and set it on the table. 

“They are beautiful, and I appreciate them, but you really have nothing to apologize for.” Rowan sat, waving her hand so that Dazmir would as well. The dwarf sat down at the opposite end of the table. 

“I do, so please let me make amends. I realize that whatever happened before between you and my king –_ well, our king_ – is, as you’ve said, your business, alone. I had no right to interfere.” Dazmir rubbed at the back of his neck. “I must admit, I think I was just a tad bit jealous.” 

“Jealous? Of what?” Rowan naively wondered aloud. 

“Of the king’s interest in you, of course!” Dazmir stated plainly. “I realize I could never compete with him, and it made me very angry.” 

Rowan released a laugh at the absurdity. “I assure you, Thorin Oakenshield has no interest in me. He’s made that abundantly clear, in so many ways.” Rowan tried to sound unaffected, but she could hear the higher pitch in her voice at speaking those words to life. “He treats me as he does any other resident of Erebor, and I am thankful that I have a home here.” 

“It would never work anyway, nor would it be allowed,” Dazmir informed. “A dwarf, especially a royal one, is bound by the rules of his house. The king would be expected to take a dwarrowdam from a noble family for his bride.” 

“Yes, and I am neither of those, so we don’t need to worry about it,” Rowan muttered. “And besides, I think Thorin has enough on his plate right now, and finding a wife is probably the least of his concern.” She tried to laugh at the notion. Really she did, but somewhere deep inside, it ached to think that he would find someone and settle down, and she’d have to sit and watch from the sidelines as he did so. Her conflicting emotions where the king was concerned continued, much to her annoyance. 

“I have heard the rumors that the king once had a great love, and that they were going to marry, but the dragon came, and I think she was lost in the fire,” Dazmir commented.

“You are overly concerned with him, Dazmir,” Rowan gave a sickly-sweet smile. She was completely done talking with _this_ dwarf about _that_ dwarf. And she didn’t want to hear about anyone that he loved before. “Did you come to apologize, or to continue talking about Thorin? Because frankly, I have heard enough about him and his love life. That is his business, and his alone.”

“I constantly do it, don’t I?” Dazmir fretted. “I keep sticking my foot in my mouth!” 

“Maybe you should stop talking about Thorin, and speak of other things?” Rowan arched a brow. 

“You’re right.” Dazmir stood, abruptly, and walked to her. “I came to ask you to accompany me to the great celebration down at the mouth of the river tomorrow evening. I’ve heard there’s going to be a huge fire, and dancing, and music, and all sorts of food and drink. I think it’s going to be quite the show!” He knelt on one knee, earning a laugh from Rowan. “My lady, my favorite stable partner, would you please do me the honor of accompanying me to this event as my date?”

“So formal! I thought you were going to ask me to marry you!” Rowan proclaimed with a giggle. She stood up and walked over to the dwarf that was kneeling. He was looking up at her with some unnamed emotion, his smile gone, and replaced with a very serious expression that made her feel a bit weird o the inside. 

“If I thought you’d say yes, I might be inclined to do so, my lady.” He wiggled his fingers. “But for now, I would settle on a ‘yes’ to this party. Would you please go with me?” 

Rowan was taken aback by the seriousness of his words, and wondered at his intent, and part of her was screaming to say no, to turn him away, but she found herself reaching out and taking his hand in hers, despite her misgivings. Something felt off about him, and she was tempted to remove her glove so that she could ‘feel him’, but she didn’t want to assume. And so, despite that little voice in her head telling her to say no, she reached out, took his hand in hers, and agreed. 

* * *

It was the night of the party, and Rowan had dressed in her usual outfit of pants, a long tunic cinched at her waist with a belt, and her coat. She had boots given to her by a bootmaker in Dale, and a furred hat pulled down over her head to ward off the cold. She was feeling much better but didn’t want to expose too much of herself and get sick again. She decided to just meet Dazmir there at the event, rather than show up on his arm. It didn’t feel right to her, and she certainly didn’t want to lead him on. Upon arrival, she saw Bofur and Bombur first. She made her way over to where Bombur had a spit going, the large hog that was cooking was giving off the most amazing of scents. She inhaled with an appreciative smile.

“You are the best cook, Bombur!” Rowan ran a hand along his upper arm in greeting. 

The rotund dwarf smiled at her around a mouthful of something, and returned his attention to his food. His brother, Bofur, stood up from where he was arranging some boxes, and gave a huge smile. 

“Rowan! Nice to see you after so long!” Bofur enveloped her in his usual hug. “You move down and we never see you again. Not sure I like this arrangement…” the dwarf arched a dark brow at her. Rowan laughed. 

“Everyone knows where to find me. And visiting works both ways, you know?” She winked at him, and then looked around to see who else she knew. Many were families she worked with daily, and some were individuals she’d never seen. Her eyes kept searching. 

“Balin and the others will be here shortly. Thorin and the council had to receive the envoy from the Iron Hills this afternoon.” Bofur sneaked a piece of meat while his brother wasn’t looking. “We must introduce you to them, Rowan. You’ll appreciate the company.” 

“Oh?” Rowan wondered. 

“Some of our royal cousins are coming and bringing with them nobles from other clans.” Bofur offered her a piece of meat, and she politely accepted. She took a bite, and sighed as the meat practicaly dissolved in her mouth. 

“Nobles?” Rowan licked at her fingers, and took another piece from Bofur.

“Royal family members. And,” - he chewed off another piece before getting swatted by Bombur, – “I have heard that the Lady Krovithra from the Grey Mountains has traveled here as well.”

“And who is she?” Rowan forced the question past her lips, Dazmir’s earlier words replaying in her mind about Thorin taking a noble bride. Suddenly the meat didn’t taste very good, and she found herself grimacing. 

“Well, rumor has it that there has been discussion on a possible marriage between our king and the Lord Korvath’s daughter, the Lady Krovithra.” Bofur scrunched his face. “It’s only rumor, mind you, but it seems logical, given that Thorin hasn’t settled down yet.” 

Rowan didn’t know what to do with her face, or her hands, or her stomach and her heart, because all felt unwell in that moment. She discreetly dropped the meat to the ground, no longer having any kind of appetite. She didn’t know why it bothered her to hear that Thorin might take a bride, but it did. It bothered her so much that she wanted to leave the party, to go back to her room and sulk, to lose herself in her books and finish off that last chocolate cake he’d brought her. There was absolutely no part of her that wanted to remain and see him interact with this female. No part at all. 

But she would not have such luck, for a moment later, Dazmir arrived with a huge smile.

The farrier chastely kissed Rowan’s gloved hand, and then took her about, introducing her to other families, and together, they partook of the festivities. Rowan’s heart wasn’t in it, though, and whenever it was offered, she took a drink of whatever was being passed around. She couldn’t very well leave without coming under suspicion and having to deal with endless questions from Dazmir, so the only other alternative was to drink until she had no idea what was happening. Being that it was her first time drinking some of the alcohol that had been provided, it hit her hard, and made her gigglier than she'd ever been. Feeling hot, Rowan had removed her hat and let her hair flow freely as she flitted about. Her date seemed to find it funny, as did the other dwarves, to see the so-called witch getting entirely sloshed. Before too long, Dazmir had convinced her to dance with him – _even though she didn’t know how to dance to save her life_ – around the great bonfire. 

_And it was there that the king finally caught a glimpse of the healer... _


	28. Chapter 28

If looks could truly kill, the one currently on the king's face would have laid low the entire celebration, so dark and menacing it was. 

“You want me to go get her?” Dwalin asked, eyeing his king from the side. “The girl is pissed, Thorin. And making a fool out of herself.” 

“She has a date, let him handle it,” Thorin spat the words out as he downed an entire tankard of ale in one go. 

Not for the first time did he regret coming to this stupid party. He wanted nothing more than to go to his room, nurse a drink by the fire, and forget he’d ever seen Rowan held so tight against that damned farrier. He didn’t even know that dwarf’s name, or where he'd come from, but he damned sure would find out tomorrow. He called for another ale, his mind turning. He’d go down to the stables tomorrow and find out who this dwarf was, his first order of business in the morning. He took another drink of his ale, and fumed. 

“That is not like her, Thorin. Perhaps I should go to her and—” Balin worried, but Thorin cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Let her be. She is her own person, and can do as she likes. If she chooses to get drunk and make a fool of herself, then so be it.” 

Balin and Dwalin shot worried looks at each other, but did not interfere again.

For another half-hour or so, Thorin sat in his chair, his eyes blazing under his lashes as he watched her and him, watched how her lithe body swayed to the music, and contorted under the direction of the farrier’s hands and arms. This was not like her at all. Or maybe it was, and he didn't know? He was, however, entirely sure Rowan wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow, and was inclined to believe that this was her first time getting this drunk. He was even more sure of it when he saw her run from the dwarf’s arms and reach the edge of the clearing just in enough time to start throwing up on the ground. The farrier stood behind her, not offering help, and Thorin grew incredibly annoyed. The idiotic date of hers could have at least held her hair back, or patted her back. Or something. When Rowan fell to her knees and rolled over on her back, Thorin watched like a hawk as the dwarf scooped her up and took off with her limp body in his arms. 

Now he’d seen enough.

He finished his ale, and set the glass down before standing up. 

“Where are you going? Korvath and his daughter will arrive any moment!” Dwalin grabbed Thorin’s arm, but the king shrugged him off. 

“Keep them occupied until I return,” came Thorin’s terse command as he stalked off into the night, his direction that of the one that Rowan had disappeared into. 

* * *

Thorin followed behind the farrier as he carried the witch away, his movements stealthily quiet as he watched from a few hundred feet. When the dwarf carried Rowan into the stable, he immediately felt something was off, and quickened his pace. He slunk along the walls, staying in the shadows until he had turned the corner, and heard the dwarf’s voice. 

_"You are so beautiful, Rowan. You have no idea. And you want me, as much as I want you." _

Thorin heard shuffling, and he frowned. 

_“I’m going to give you a night you’ll never forget..."_

Thorin frowned at the innuendo in that voice. He rounded the final corner, peeking into the stables, and saw the dwarf and Rowan. She was lying flat on her back in a pile of hay, and the dwarf was above her. He first stripped off his belt, and then began tugging at Rowan’s pants, trying to undo the button. Her stomach was revealed, and the shirt was pulled up, revealing her bound breasts, and Thorin’s stomach turned inside out with rage and disgust as he realized what the dwarf was intent on doing. He moved out of the shadows as he unsheathed his sword. He pressed the blade against the dwarf’s neck, halting any further deviant intentions as the farrier stiffened. 

“Surely you are not planning on raping this poor girl, are you?” Thorin’s voice was dripping with acid. He saw red, and everything in him was telling him to remove this dwarf’s head from his disgusting body, and he just barely restrained himself. He pressed the blade tip at the the offender’s throat, causing the dwarf to hiss in pain as his skin nicked and blood began trickling. "Answer me." 

“We were just celebrating, my king!” The dwarf lifted his hands in a plea of mercy as he realized who was holding a sword at his throat. 

“Celebrating?” Thorin huffed. “No, she is drunk and passed out. And you were planning on raping her." Thorin pressed the blade further. “I should take your head right now, dwarf. How dare you think to do such a thing in my kingdom, with one of my people?” 

“I wasn’t going to, my king! We were just having a bit of fun, and—”

Whatever the dwarf was going to say was lost as Thorin slammed the hilt of Orcist into the back of his head, knocking the dwarf out cold. He fell to the ground, unconscious, as blood now seeped from the wound at his crown. Thorin dragged the dwarf to a nearby stall, tied him up inside, and closed the gate. He would deal with him later. With a sigh, he turned back to Rowan, who was still passed out. His frustration grew at her for being so foolish as he knelt and inspected her face and body for any damage. She appeared well enough, though she had some marks on her neck that looked like the dwarf had been sucking at her skin. His anger at both of them grew, with rage at the farrier, and exasperation with Rowan. How could she be so stupidly naive?!

“Bloody fucking hell,” Thorin grumbled as he righted her clothes, and then scooped her up in his arms. 

He carried her back to her room and brought her inside where he lay her down on her bed, his intent to leave and let her sleep it off on her own. However, Rowan began mumbling, and then rolled over and began groaning, and then began coughing as if she were going to throw up again, and he knew he couldn’t leave her like this. As quick as he could, Thorin grabbed her and took her to her small bathroom, depositing her near her toilet as he encouraged her to let it all out. He held her hair back from her face as she emptied the remainder of her stomach’s contents into the toilet’s bucket, and when she was done, he let her fall back into his arms. He was sat on her floor, holding her in his lap. She was shaking, her skin pale and hands cold, and Thorin knew she’d drank entirely too much. 

“You are such a naïve, foolish girl, do you know that?” He whispered as he pushed her damp hair off her forehead. Despite knowing he shouldn't, his fingers lingered on her forehead and then her temple, his eyes searching her face as he traced the softness of her cheek with his fingertips. Her eyes danced behind her eyelids, and he wondered what she was dreaming about in that crazy mind of hers. He smiled, more to himself, and stood, taking her with him and back to her bed. As he went to lay her down again, Rowan grabbed at his tunic and clutched him tightly. 

“Please don’t leave me alone.” Her voice was a mere whisper, but Thorin heard it down to the depths of his soul. He hovered over her for a moment, indecision weighing heavily on him. As he pried her fingers off him, he knew that he should leave her, but realized that he could not. There was some part of him that needed her right now as much as she appeared to need him, and he could not walk out her door and leave her in such a state. 

“Let me take off your boots, and get a fire going, and I’ll be back, okay?” He cupped her cheek again in reassurance, and Rowan gave a sleepy nod. 

Thorin did as he said, removed her boots, and her heavy coat, before he stoked her small fire back up enough to warm the chilled room. When he was done, he returned to her, and sat on the edge of the small bed. Somehow feeling his weight, Rowan turned and reached for him, her hand coming dangerously close to his thigh, and he gritted his teeth as he grabbed her fingers just before she’d accidentally groped him. He held her hands tight as he removed her gloves. 

“Your fingers are ice cold!” He griped as he took her hand and blew on her skin to warm her. “What were you thinking?”

He didn’t know why he was asking questions like he was. He didn't know why he was still here, when he should leave her to suffer her stupidity. He was so damned mad at her for putting herself in such a position. How could she be so foolish??

Rowan mumbled something incoherent against her blanket,and then her teeth started chattering again, and Thorin couldn’t help himself.

Realizing the bed was too small, he scooped her up in his arms, and then lay back down, cradling her slim frame against his chest. Rowan relaxed almost immediately, giving a deep sigh, and melted right into him. Her arms came around his chest, and her nose pressed against the crook of his neck, and he could not prevent the smile that broke out at feeling her cling to him like he was her lifeline. He liked the idea of her needing him like this, and realized that this was what it as like to have her not be afraid of him, to not flinch every time he came near, and to not be so fearful of him. He liked it very much, and wasn't quite ready to see it end. He pulled the blanket over the two of them, his plan to just rest for a bit and warm her, but before he knew what had happened, his eyes had drifted shut, and he fell into a deep sleep. 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: A little violent here, but I think it is justified. Mind the tags!

The first thing Rowan noticed when she woke the next morning was that it was incredibly warm. And the thing she was currently laying on was not only toasty, but also rock hard and yet somehow incredibly soft. The most comfortably, inflexible surface she’d ever laid upon was right underneath her cheek, her arms wrapped around the impossible broad-heat of whatever it was. Her eyes opened further, and she frowned in confusion. She reached up and wiped at her bleary eyes as she tried to make sense of things. The thing below her grunted, and that was when she noticed that whatever she was laying upon also had a heartbeat, and it was thumping steadily under her cheek as the chest rose and fell._ A heartbeat?_ **_Someone’s chest?_ **Her fuzzy mind tried to organize her thoughts. 

Rowan frowned as awareness snaked its way into her brain, and then her eyes popped open fully as brief snippets of the night before popped in her head. Dazmir, she recalled. She had a date with Dazmir, and...— She saw hair, up close, and she squinted to get a better look. A beard, it was, and there was the throat that went with it. This beard was dark, though, not blonde like Dazmir’s. Her own heart started thumping wildly, and she sat up, pushing off the hard surface with force. 

That was a huge mistake, because as soon as she sat up, she nearly fell right back down. 

Her world started spinning wildly on its axis, her stomach churning and her skin went clammy cold with sickness. She clumsily tumbled off the bed, and half-crawled/half-ran to her bathroom, and began dry heaving. After a few moments, she wearily collapsed on her floor, her skin sweaty, and breath coming in short pants as she closed her eyes to all the spinning. 

“That was not very smart of you, was it?” 

Rowan grimaced at that voice. Why did it have to be him, of all people? And how long had she been laying on him, in her bed? So many questions!

“Thorin? What are you doing here?” She tried to open her eyes, but each time she did, her world began spinning all over, and she had to close them for fear of getting nauseous again. 

“I saved you from your precious dwarf last night.” Came the king’s terse reply.

At the anger in his voice, Rowan’s frown grew as she tried to recall last night, but found her memory was scattered at best.

What had happened with Dazmir?

_And, where was he?_

** _And more importantly, why was Thorin in her room??_ **

“Dazmir? We were going to the party, and we were dancing, and…And…I don’t remember anything after that!” Rowan groaned as her head started throbbing harder. “Where is he, and why are you here?” She chanced a look in Thorin's direction and saw him leaned up against the bathroom doorframe, his arms over his chest, looking entirely unimpressed, and unbothered by her current predicament. The only thing that showed any hint of emotion was that sour look on his face, and it was the disgust written all over his stern face that it made her want to her close her eyes again. 

“He’s in the stables where I left him.” 

“In the stables? Why?” Rowan pressed a hand at her mouth to curb the bile that wanted to creep up. 

“You can ask him yourself,” Thorin muttered. “Are you well enough now, or do you need me any longer?” 

“I don’t need you. And I don’t even know why you’re here in the first place, Thorin,” Rowan snapped back. She had no idea why he was being so rude to her today when she’d done nothing to him. 

“I don’t either!” Thorin softly countered after a few moments, and Rowan would swear that she heard something in his voice akin to hurt, and that confused her even further. Before she could ask, though, he’d gone to leave. As the door slammed behind the king, she winced at the noise, but made no move to get up, and instead continued to lay on her bathroom floor, grateful for the coolness of the stone to calm her heated skin.

Why on this earth had she had so much to drink? She couldn’t, for the life of her, remember ever being so affected by alcohol, but that was the only excuse she could come up with. She closed her eyes, and decided that she’d just lay there for a little while longer, and wait for the hangover to subside…

* * *

As Thorin made his way to the stables, his head pounded with his own anger and frustration. How could she be so stupid? He stomped on, his fists clenching and unclenching as he finally stepped inside. Other dwarves were around the stall he’d left the perpetrator in, and Thorin sent them away with a stern look.

The dwarf prisoner was asleep, his bound hands behind his back as he peacefully snored away his own drunkenness, and Thorin’s level of frustration skyrocketed. He rushed inside the stall and grabbed the dwarf, violently jerking him upright by his shirt. 

“Open your eyes!” Thorin roared as he slapped the dwarf’s cheek.

Dazmir's eyes popped open, and he immediately began howling in fear. He tried to scramble away from the king, but found it was impossible with the vice-grip Thorin had on his shirt front. The king jerked him back up again, lifting him off the ground as he sneered in his face. One hand reached up to wrap at the farrier’s throat, and Thorin squeezed. 

“You think you can come into my kingdom, and rape my citizens? Is that what you think?” Thorin’s grip tightened on the man’s throat, cutting off his air. 

Dazmir’s face turned red, then purple, and then the air became inadequate, and he started seeing stars as the life was slowly choked from his body. All at once, he fell to the ground, and when his vision cleared, he saw the king being held back by Dwalin and Kili as they’d forced the king to release his captive. 

“Uncle! You have to stop!” Kili was yelling, and Dwalin too. Thorin fought against them, roaring like a lion as he struggled to break free. His wild eyes were on Dazmir, and spit flew from his mouth as he fought to reach the prisoner again. Dazmir scooted back against the wall, cowering in fear as he prayed that the king would let him be. 

“He was going to rape her!” Thorin hissed as he finally untangled himself from his nephew and friend. He held up shaky hands, warding off anymore constraints from the pair as he showed he was no longer going to attack him. Thorin’s eyes never left Dazmir, though, until he walked outside and took some deep breaths to calm his emotions. Kili and Dwali followed. 

“Rape who?” Kili demanded. 

“Who do you think?” Thorin snapped back. 

Kili’s eyes darkened in understanding as he looked back into the stables, and Thorin snorted in his nephew's direction. 

“Now do you see why I was going to kill him?” The king shook his head as he looked down at his still trembling hands. 

Seeing the dwarf again, in the light of day, and after having spent the evening with Rowan, was nearly more than the king could bear. He had been so peaceful while with Rowan, his sleep so sound as she rested atop him and held him. To go from that, to this wild, almost-maniacal need to destroy this dwarf was frightening. How quick his switch could be flipped at just seeing this potential rapist again, and even he was shocked that the dwarf could cause such a fire to rise within him. It was not as if he’d never dealt with a potential sexual assault before, as not all residents in the kingdoms- both here and in the Blue Mountains- were always good. He was no stranger to dealing with criminals and doling out their punishments. He took another deep breath, willing away the image of Rowan being so defiled by such a creature as this farrier. He had to put those images away, those terrible imaginations of the worst, for if he didn't- if he couldn’t get a grip on himself - he’d go in there and finish what he started with his bare hands. He closed his eyes and pushed the images away, trying to focus on the fact that he'd stopped it before it had ever gotten to that point. 

“I know this isn’t the time, but Lord Korvath and his daughter have requested an audience with you, Thorin. They were upset that you were missing from the celebration last night.” Dwalin stepped closer to his friend. “Where were you last night?”

“That is not your concern,” Thorin growled, his eyes blazing as he opened them and stared at the stable door. He gave no mind to the Lord from the Grey Mountains. They were the least of his concerns at the moment. 

“It is mine when I have to make excuses!” Dwalin charged in return. “The rumor is you were with the witch, Thorin!” 

“And if I was?” Thorin cut his eyes at Dwalin. “She was almost raped! What would you have me do?” 

“You are too close to this girl, Thorin. Let someone else handle it.” Dwalin reached out and grabbed Thorin’s arm in his. “It is folly to travel down this road, my friend.” 

Annoyed again, Thorin jerked his arm from Dwalin’s grasp, and walked back into the stable. He made a beeline for the farrier, who was now practically crawling up the wall to get away from the king. Thorin knelt before the farrier, his lips taut.

“We will bring the witch here. She will be able to discern what your true intentions were.” Thorin stood. “And if she finds that you had the intent to rape her, then your punishment will be swift and fitting.” 

Kili stopped near his uncle, his own eyes blazing as he stared down at the farrier. 

“Go and fetch the witch, Kili. Bring her to me.” Thorin shrugged off his coat and tossed it aside. "And until she gets here, I'll get answers my own way." 

Dazmir started crying as Thorin started punching, the blood and tears all mingled together, until each became one and the same...


	30. Chapter 30

“But I don’t understand why he needs me to come here—” 

Rowan’s words died off as she rounded the corner and saw Dazmir laying in the dirt, his hands cradling his head as he rolled around in agony. She cried out when she saw his busted lip and swollen eye, the blood all over his clothing, and she turned accusing eyes to the king. Kili had told her nothing after he'd come to fetch her, only that she needed to get dressed as quick as possible and follow him to the stables. Rowan was still nauseated, but she'd hastily grabbed a ginger root, and was chewing on that as she followed the dwarf. 

“What did you do to him?” She hissed as she knelt beside her friend. She gently grasped the farrier's arm. “Dazmir? Are you okay? What happened?” 

The dwarf only shook his head and tried to pull from her grasp, and Rowan again turned to look at Thorin with an accusatory stare. 

“Whatever he’s done, I’m sure this is not justified! Is this your usual beat first and ask questions later?” 

Rowan saw that her barb had stuck a nerve, as Thorin's face darkened even further than it already was. His jaw hardened as he pinned her with an icy blue stare. 

“Take off your gloves and touch him, witch. See for yourself what he intended to do to you,” came Thorin’s silky reply. “If after, you find nothing amiss, then I will let him go with my good wishes and sincere apology. But please. Go on. Touch him and see for yourself.” 

Annoyed with Thorin's cryptic response, and so very confused, Rowan removed her glove, and her fingers shook as she pushed her hand towards Dazmir. When her fingers touched the skin of his cheek, she started frowning. Dazmir started sweating, shaking his head as he tried to pull back from her, but Rowan was undaunted as she'd already had an inkling of his thoughts. She used her teeth to pull off her other glove and pressed that hand to his other swollen cheek. As she cradled his face in her palms, she saw in her mind exactly what he had been planning on doing to her last night, and in such vivid detail that it made her sick at her stomach all over again. She wanted to let go, but found she could not. 

Images of the fire and the dancing, of the drinking and how much alcohol she’d been offered swam in her head. Visions of Dazmir sucking on her neck sprang to mind, and she realized that those marks had been left by this dwarf, and not the king as she’d so erroneously believed earlier when she'd cleaned herself up. Her eyes met Thorin’s for a moment, an awkward acknowledgement, before she focused her attention back on Dazmir. She gasped, her mouth falling open and tears sprung to her eyes at what she saw: It was her, laying in the hay, her breasts bared as Dazmir tried to pull her pants off. Him pulling at his pants, and struggling with his belt…

“You were going to take advantage of me that night?” She whispered as tears started dripping down her cheeks. She could see the truth reflected back at her in his eyes and could feel it in his betraying touch. Her heart clenched in her chest, and nausea washed over her body in waves. 

“No! I wasn’t going to!” Dazmir cried as he continued to deny. Rowan focused on his eyes, her chin trembling and sadness wracking her body as she held him.

“You were. Right here, in these stables. You were going to rape me…” the words died on her lips in a shocked whisper. “How could you do that to me? I trusted you. I defended you.” 

“Rowan, I—” Whatever Dazmir was going to say was lost in an ear-splitting scream as Rowan forced him to feel all the pent-up rage and anger, the disbelief, the agonizing hurt. The embarrassing fury at almost being taken advantage of. Dazmir moaned pathetically as fresh tears leaked from his eyes. 

_She trusted him._

Her mind screamed at her, and then screamed at him, her wrath white-hot as it seeped from her body and inflamed his mind. How could he be so vile? Her skin burned against his, her senses on high alert, and now on the attack as she tightened her grip on him. She forced Dazmir to feel the shock, to feel the nausea, to keenly know the sinking feeling she had burning in the pit of her stomach, as the images in her head were painfully forced into his. She wanted him to understand what it felt like to have your will taken away, to have your body tossed into the hay as if it were nothing. To have no control over what was happening, or what would happen. To be completely and utterly powerless. She pressed on, her rage growing until what she was making him feel was something much darker and eviler, insidious even, her thoughts dangerous. Menacingly so. 

Fascinated, and perhaps bemused, Thorin watched under hooded eyes as the farrier reached up and placed his hands at his throat and began choking himself. 

_The dwarf was choking himself,_ his green eyes wide with fear as he did the unthinkable to his own body. Only after a few moments did Thorin realize what was happening, that it was Rowan that was somehow making the dwarf act in such a way. Part of him wanted to allow her to kill the dwarf, ti take out her anger on Dazmir, but deep down, he knew that Rowan was not the killing type, and in allowing her to do so, more harm than good may come of this day’s events. Doing what he thought best, he pulled Rowan off the farrier, breaking her hold on him, and the dwarf gasped for air as his fingers finally let go of his throat. Dazmir fell down into the hay, a mix of bodily fluids soaking his pants and the ground underneath him as he gasped for air. 

Thorin pulled Rowan back, his calm murmurings comforting her as she began sobbing, and her arms wrapped around his neck as she clung to him. He nodded at Dwalin to take care of the prisoner, and he turned his attention back to Rowan as he carried her into an empty area of the stables, far away from the noise and chaos, and sat down on the ground, holding her in his lap as she wept. 

“Shhhh…you’re alright, Rowan. I’m here. And everything is alright,” Thorin soothed as he stroked her back. She was a shaking, shuddering mess, her fingers painfully tangled in his hair as she clung to him. He tried to move her, but she wouldn’t let go, and he settled for letting her hold him as tight as she needed. It would be sometime before she finally stopped crying, her breaths becoming more stable with only the occasional hiccup as she calmed. 

“Feeling any better?” Thorin murmured against her hair as he continued stroking her back. Rowan’s grip tightened on him. 

“You found me that night, didn’t you?”

“Aye, I did,” Thorin confirmed. 

“And that’s why you were in my room with me?” She continued looking for answers. 

“Yes. I didn’t want to leave you so...unwell.” Thorin shifted her on his lap, and this time she allowed it. She settled against his chest, her head tucked under his chin, and Thorin couldn’t get over how small she felt in his arms, how fragile and needy she felt to him. It spoke to the male in him, called on some primal instinct of his to protect those he cared about. He frowned at this sudden thought, knowing that Rowan was perfectly capable of taking care of herself; He’d just seen the effects of her touch when driven by rage and fear, and she certainly didn’t need him to do anything for her, truth be told. 

“If you hadn’t been there…” her words died off with a strangle, and Thorin tightened his grip on her. 

“But I was, little one. And I told you, no further harm would come to you under my watch.” He smoothed her hair down at the back of her head. “And I keep my word.” 

“Is that why you were so mad at me? This morning?” 

“Yes.” 

“I didn’t know he was like that,” Rowan mumbled. “I thought he was good. I'm sorry I accused you." ”

“Never mind that. There’s more bad people in this world than you realize, and not everyone that appears good, is so.” Thorin’s words were those of a parent to a child, though there was no malice behind them. Only guidance, and long-overdue information. 

“And not everyone who seems bad is so,” Rowan quietly rejoined. She shifted on his lap, wiggling so that she fit better in the crook of his arms. The king sighed, and they both appeared to want to relish this feeling for just a bit more. 

“That’s a mighty strong touch you have,” Thorin chuckled in her hair after some time. “I’d hate to be on the receiving end of such anger.” 

“I didn’t know I could do that, honestly. I've never done that. And, it doesn’t work on you, remember?” Rowan found herself giggling with him. She reached up and placed a bare hand at his cheek, cupping his bearded jaw. “See? Nothing to worry about.” 

“Well, I don’t know that I’d say ‘nothing’, little one,” Thorin gave an easy smile as Rowan looked up to meet his eyes, searching for some hidden meaning that she felt was in his words. 

She saw only kindness reflected back at her, only his calm authority and strong surety, and in that moment, she felt more peace in this dwarf's arms than she ever had. it was such a strange feeling, to not be terrified of this dwarf as she had been, and to in fact, feel protected by him. Very strange, given all that transpired between the two of them. 

They held each other’s gaze for a few moments, before Rowan was forced to look away. Her cheeks had heated with the intensity in the king’s eyes, the blue seeming to burn with some raging fire that caused her heart rate to rise. And even though she couldn’t 'feel him' in the same way she did others, it did nothing to diminish what the touch of his skin against hers did to her body, the sensations his strong chest evoked as it pressed against hers so powerfully. Feeling embarrassed, she pushed against him, and scrambled off his lap. There was something wrong with her head. Clearly. 

“I should get back to work,” she mumbled, doing her best to hide the color in her cheeks. Thorin stood, his blue eyes still trained on her as he, too, dusted off his clothing. He reached out, lifting her chin with a finger underneath. 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” He gasped her chin in his fingers, and tilted her head from side to side, so that he could see both sides of her face. His fingers brushed against her cheek on one side. "This is a lot to take in." 

“I’m fine,” Rowan protested weakly. 

Her skin was on fire where Thorin was touching her, his rough fingertips against the soft skin of her face causing all sorts of crazy reactions in her body, and a part of her wanted to rush back into his arms and wrap herself around him. The other part of her, the logical part, urged her to step back. She did the latter, and backed away from him.

“Thank you, Thorin.” Rowan wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging herself. She couldn't think straight around him, and after what she'd just gone through, she needed to have some time to process everything. The king regarded her for a moment, before he appeared to accept that she was well enough for now. 

“Let Balin or Kili know if you need anything further.” Thorin lowered his chin at her. “And do not drink anymore.” 

"I think I'm done with that," Rowan agreed, feeling altogether sheepish. 

"Go with Kili. He'll stay with you today, and see that you're well. And I'll send Oin to come have a look after you." Thorin looked back at the far end where Dwalin was handling the prisoner, and his brows drew together. 

"Thorin, I'm fine. Please, don't worry about me." Rowan stepped back further as her eyes also landed on the area they'd just come from. "What will you do with him?" She couldn't help but ask. 

Thorin turned back and pinned her with a dark gaze. "Do you really want me to answer that? Or can you trust me to take care of you, as I said I would? That dwarf will never harm you again." 

"I trust you, Thorin," Rowan answered him, and she was rewarded with a small half-smile from Thorin.

"Very good. Now go. This is no place for you until I say otherwise." Thorin nodded to her, just as Kili appeared and enveloped her in a hug.

Uncle and nephew spoke in that guttural language, Khuzdul, for a few moments, before Thorin took his leave, and disappeared back into the darkness of the stable where Dwali and the prisoner waited. As Kili ushered Rowan away, she couldn't help but look back as she heard whimpering. 

"What did Thorin say to you, Kili?" She asked him. "Right now, before he left. What did he say?" 

"You do not want to know, Rowan." Kili shook his dark head, and his words were low and ominous. "Just know that Dazmir will not bother you again, or any other woman in this kingdom. Ever again." 

Rowan couldn't hide the shiver that rolled over her body at those words, and she knew that Dazmir's fate had been sealed. As they walked from the stables, and back to Erebor, Rowan tried to put the whole ordeal out of her mind, but found she could not. She above all else knew how vicious Thorin Oakenshield could be when he wanted to, but honestly she found it difficult to find any part of her that pitied Dazmir or his fate. 

And, that worried her, for as she made it to her door, two very contradicting thoughts occurred to her, and she didn't know if either were good or bad, or if all the trauma and chaos had completely sent her off to the deep end, and she was crazy, or what had happened!

_For the first time in her life, she recognized in herself that she no longer cared about the life of someone; She absolutely did not care whether Dazmir lived or died. And secondly, a large part of her felt utterly and completely justified knowing that Thorin was going to exact revenge on her behalf. _

She didn't know how to feel about either of these things.

Strange indeed. 


	31. Chapter 31

That evening, Thorin sat at dinner, doing his best to focus on the boring conversation that was being had around him, but his mind never wandered too far from her. His knuckles ached, his forearms were sore - both a reminder of what had transpired earlier with Dazmir. He scowled in remembrance, but then found his mood lighten as he remembered...

The way she felt in his arms in the stable, the way she had clung to him as if she needed him. As if he was her protector, and he was going to keep her safe. As if she didn’t despise him as she once had. He allowed a wry smile…

Things had changed between him and her, and he wasn’t entirely sure how. It was mostly on her part, as she had somehow found it in her heart to forgive him for how badly he’d treated her. He was sure she’d never forget, though, as he’d seen her flinch more often than not when around him. It was only when she was upset that she allowed him to get close. And he rather liked being the one she needed in those moments. In some small, selfish way, he felt as if he were being allowed to atone for his sins when she allowed him to help her. 

“My king?” 

Annoyed at being dragged from his thoughts, Thorin turned his attention back to Lord Korvath. He was a portly dwarf, one that had clearly invested too much in food and drink, and had not spent nearly enough time in the mines doing hard work. Korvath and his kin came from a long line of very well-off dwarves, and had never strayed much from the Grey Mountains, until now. Thorin wasn't entirely sure how he felt about him or his daughter.

“I’m sorry. You were saying?” Thorin replied, trying to appear interested. 

“I was only stating that 'Vithra was asking to see the progress you’d made on the lower halls. I told her you might find some time tonight to take her on a tour, if it wouldn’t be much trouble.” Lord Korvath arched a brow, and the meaning was not lost on Thorin. 

Thorin turned to see Korvath’s daughter, and caught her watching him with a shy smile. He tipped his head back at her, and he watched as he cheeks bloomed with color. She was young – _perhaps too young for his liking_ – but very beautiful, with her ebony hair, and deep, brown eyes. She was sweet enough, and would make a very fitting bride for any noble dwarf, but he couldn’t get past the fact that _she was not her._ He frowned down at his glass and wondered why it was so empty. He called for another ale. He needed to put the witch out of his mind, and focus on his life and his kingdom and his responsibility, as she'd told him to do. He made up his mind, and smiled at Korvath before turning to his daughter. 

“I imagine we can take a tour, if the lady would like,” Thorin nodded at Krovithra as he took a drink.

She smiled back from under her lashes. “I would very much like to see all that you’ve accomplished, my king.” 

“Then let us not waste any more time, shall we?” Thorin stood, as did everyone else.

He made his way around the table, and offered his arm to Krovithra. She blushed anew and looped her arms with his, and off they went down the long and winding halls and corridors, until they’d approached the lower levels. They were silent for the most part, with only Thorin breaking the silence, occasionally, to explain something, and Krovithra responding accordingly. Her polite answers and simpering compliments grated on Thorin's nerves; She was entirely groomed for becoming a wife of a king, and he wondered if she had her own opinions in that beautiful head of hers. Once they’d reached their destination, Thorin led them an area where a waterfall fell from a crack in the mountain, and along its edges, small flowers had begun blooming, seemingly an impossibility in the darkness of this mountain. He assumed that Krovithra would like something such as this, being a lady and all. 

“One of our many waterfalls in the mountain,” Thorin explained as the dwarrowdam surveyed it. She gave him an impish smile, revealing a dimple in her cheek. 

“It is beautiful here.” She released him to walk along the water’s edge. “I’ve heard how wonderful Erebor was, but I never thought I’d see it with my own eyes.” 

Thorin leaned against the edge of some rocks that had formed a seating area and observed her. She was a dwarf, a noble dwarrowdam, and perfect for him in every way. Her body was strong and stout like most dwarves, hardy for the environment, yet feminine in all the right ways. Her ample bosom nearly spilled over the bodice of her dark, navy dress, the colors undoubtedly picked in his honor. She knelt down and plucked a flower and smiled back at Thorin. He beckoned her with a finger to come to him, and she did, and with a smile, he took the flower from her and placed it behind her ear. 

“A beautiful flower for a beautiful woman,” Thorin murmured as he allowed his fingers to linger on the skin of her neck below her ear. She really was exquisite, but it didn't matter: He felt nothing when he touched her. 

“You are making me blush, my king,” Krovithra simpered as she batted her lashes at him, and Thorin found himself slightly annoyed at her attempt to bait him. He pushed it aside. 

“Would you be offended if I asked to kiss you?” Thorin asked plainly, not knowing why in the hell he did it, but knowing he needed to know. 

“I would be heartbroken if you never tried,” Krovithra sweetly answered.

She tilted her chin, and offered herself to him freely, and Thorin lowered his head to hers, and pressed his lips against hers. His hands cupped her cheeks as he held her to him, and her hands had reached up to grasp at his forearms. 

_He felt absolutely nothing._

Unwilling to accept defeat, he kept going, gently probing at her lips, asking for entrance, and she opened to him, allowing his tongue to slide in and mingle with hers.

But still, he felt nothing.

Absolutely nothing. He knew this girl would allow him to take her, to ravish her here or anywhere else, and he couldn’t deny that it had been too long that he’d had his carnal needs sated, but this girl was clearly not the one to do it for him. Her skin against his, her lips against his, her sweet-smelling perfume - all had elicited nothing from him. He felt not even a stirring in his loins, and to be frank, it worried him some. 

After a few more moments, he released her, and ran his fingers over the softness of her cheek. She was breathless, her cheeks high with color and eyes dazed, and Thorin immediately felt guilty. He felt absolutely nothing for this beautiful girl, but she appeared to be completely enamored of him, and now he felt like complete shit for trying this idiotic experiment on her. 

“That was the first kiss I’ve ever had, and it was everything I ever dreamed of,” Krovithra giggled up at him. 

Her hands clutched at Thorin’s forearms, almost desperately, and he fought the urge to push her away. It was not her fault that she didn’t arouse him. It was not her fault at all.

“We should get back to the dinner. I imagine your father will be looking for you,” Thorin smoothly untangled himself from her hands, and offered his arm again instead. 

“He won’t care if he knows I’m with you.” Krovithra pouted up at him as she lowered her voice. Her free hand pressed against his chest in a suggestive way. “We could stay a little longer, if you’d like.” 

As he looked down at the dwarrowdam on his arm, Thorin wished with all his might that he could find some measure of lust for her, some reason that would tip him over so that he would be interested in this very-willing dwarf, and not be fixated on that which was unattainable. His lips pressed as he looked away. There was no amount of wishing that would make him feel something he did not, and it aggravated him to no end. 

“I am sorry, my lady, but we must get back. I have much work to do, and it is getting very late.” He gave Krovithra a smile, and started walking, giving her no opportunity to press him further. She reluctantly went with him. 

“I enjoyed our walk, my king. I hope this isn’t the last one we take together.” 

“I don’t imagine it will be,” Thorin replied, forcing another smile. 

The pair of them made their way back up to the hall so that they could rejoin the others. Thorin didn’t miss the look of surprise on Lord Korvath’s face at seeing the pair come back so early. He did not address it, though, and deposited the daughter with the father before he took his leave from the meeting, citing work that must be done. Balin followed him into the dark. 

“Where are you going, laddie?” 

Thorin stiffened, and stopped just before he turned and made the long trek back downstairs. 

“I did not know I was answerable to you,” Thorin remained facing away. Balin moved closer. 

“You are not answerable to me, Thorin.” Balin came around so that he could see the king’s eyes, and the look on Thorin’s face was enough to make Balin’s face fall, also. He reached out and pressed a hand at Thorin’s shoulder. 

“I take it didn’t go well with her?” 

“It was fine,” Thorin mumbled quietly. He moved away from Balin and stood before one of the open windows in the corridor that looked down upon the great cavern that was the seat of Erebor. His eyes landed on a set of lights on one particular house, and he frowned. 

“You do not find her attractive, do you?” Balin came to stand next to him. 

“She is beautiful, by any dwarven standard,” Thorin denied. “It’s not her…it’s…” 

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Balin finished, earning a harsh glance from Thorin. He waved the king off with a hand to settle him. “I saw it when you brought her back, Thorin. You have no interest in Krovithra. You might as well have screamed it from the bloody mountain, as clear as it was.” 

Thorin blanched and let out a disgruntled breath. His shoulders drooped as his fingers dug into the stone ledge. “That obvious?” 

“To all who care about you, it was.”

They stood quiet for a few moments, when Thorin spoke again. 

“I’m going to ask you a question, Balin, and I want you to answer me truthfully. Not as my advisor, but as someone who’s known me, and who I consider a dear friend. Please don’t lie to me, and don’t bloody placate me. I get enough of that already from everyone else.” 

“I’ll do my best, laddie,” Balin answered. Thorin took in a steadying breath.

“Do you think that people can be forgiven after doing terrible things? Killing someone, for instance? Going outside the marital bed and seeking solace elsewhere? Accusing someone of something they didn’t do, and punishing them for it?” Thorin looked down, digging his fingers into the stone, scraping so hard that dust appeared. “And then hurting them…physically…” 

“You are asking if Rowan would ever forgive you for hitting her?” Balin asked plainly. 

Thorin sighed again, but did not look up. “I am.”

“Well, have you asked her?” 

“Not outright, but I’ve apologized profusely. The night I let her go, I explained myself as best as possible, and apologized. I did not make excuses and I accepted all of it as my own fault. Mine and mine alone.” Thorin gave a ghostly smile. “And she said she forgave me. And then told me that I needed to get on with my life.” 

“That does sound like her,” Balin smiled. “What else did that lass say?” 

“She told me that if I wanted to truly make amends to everyone that I’d hurt, that I needed to be the king. That I needed to be the man she knew I could be.” Thorin’s voice hitched. “I dare say that girl has more faith in me than I do myself on most days.” 

“Ah, so all makes sense now,” Balin rubbed his beard thoughtfully. 

“What does?” 

“The way you managed to pull yourself out of that mess you were in with drinking and the gold sickness.” Balin chuckled. "I see you might have had a motivating factor."

“Well, you and I both know that the sickness that lay upon that gold was relieved by the Grey Wizard and his magical spells before he left with the hobbit,” Thorin reminded. 

“He removed the sickness from the gold, Thorin, but not from your blood. The possibility of you falling like your grandfather was still there – _It is_ _still there._ And probably always will be. But you’ve managed it, laddie. You have. And you’ve become a fine king despite all of this, and that.” Balin continued stroking his beard. “But as far as Rowan, that is entirely up to her how she sees you from this point on.” 

“You don’t think she could ever care for me,” Thorin muttered as he continued digging at the stone wall. 

“I did not say that, Thorin. Don’t put words in my mouth.” Balin turned to his friend. “What I’m saying is, she may, or she may not find it in her heart to forgive you. You have to be prepared for whatever she decides, and you have to be willing to accept whatever she decides.” 

“I did not like seeing her with Dazmir,” Thorin’s brow darkened. “And I don’t think I will like seeing her with anyone else.” 

“That much was obvious, also. You are quite an open book where that girl is concerned, Thorin.” Balin chuckled, and then sobered. “But, she is not your prisoner, nor your servant, so you will have to let her make her own decisions on who she spends time with.” 

"I have not felt this way in so long, Balin. It frightens me." Thorin gulped the knot in his throat. "And I hate to say this, but I don't think I've _ever_ felt this way before. Not even with Halla." The king's face grew haunted with memory. 

"You are allowed to grieve, Thorin. You are also allowed to remember those you loved, and then to move on. There is no crime in that, laddie." Balin clasped Thorin's tense shoulder. "There is no crime in being happy." 

"If I could go back, Balin, I would have never laid a hand on her," Thorin whispered.

Balin heard the sadness in his friend's voice and he wanted to do something, anything to help him, but there was nothing to do for it. 

Thorin continued, "I lost control, and I let my rage and anger and fear take over, and I will never forgive myself for that." 

"Aye, you did," Balin agreed. "But that is something you will have to live with, and work through, laddie. I didn't agree with it then, and I don't agree with it now, but, plainly speaking, what's done is done, Thorin. There is nothing to be done about what happened, because as much as you'd like to, you cannot go back and undo what has done." 

Thorin sighed, and stood up straight. 

"Not what you wanted to hear, was it?" Balin gave a smile. 

"Does it matter?" Thorin gave a half-smile in return. "We reap what we sow, do we not?" 

"Aye, we do. Where are you off to?" 

"I thought I might take a walk, clear my head. All of this entertaining is wearing on my nerves." He rubbed at his forehead, and scowled. "Giving me such a blasted headache that I cannot escape." 

"Well, I'll take my leave," Balin stated. 

"Thank you for being my friend, Balin." Thorin gave a smile, and pressed his hand at Balin's shoulder, and Balin returned the gesture in dwarfish custom. The two embraced for a moment, and then Balin took his leave. At the door that led back into the great hall, the white-haired dwarf turned back to Thorin. 

"You best get that headache taken care of, laddie." He winked at the king. "And as Oin is otherwise engaged with the company, I imagine you'll have to seek medical services elsewhere." 

"Good evening, Balin," Thorin found himself grinning at his friend's unabashed meddling. 

"Good night, Thorin." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's POV....


	32. Chapter 32

Thorin wandered, aimlessly, perhaps, but he knew where his steps would eventually take him: Down to her house in the communal residences. From the moment he left Balin, and had that conversation, he knew where he would end up. He was still embarrassed about speaking openly of Halla with Balin, but deep down, he knew that old dwarf had known. Even though his advisor and friend never said as much – or mentioned it – Thorin knew that Balin had known all along. Which meant that Dwalin had probably known as well. Thorin frowned, his eyes shimmering in the dark, and tried to work it all out in his mind. 

Lingering on the edges of the housing area below the mountain, he took up a seat on a stone outcropping and pulled out his pipe. Perhaps some pipeweed would settle his nerves, and perhaps give him enough time to rethink going where his idiotic heart was trying to drag him with every damned step. 

He had thought of nothing but her since the stable, and with his every breath, he wanted nothing more than to go to her and see that she was well. Through that dinner, it was all he could think about. The image of her in his lap kept replaying in his mind. His body was restless, his mind even more so, and he wanted nothing more than to leave that damned meal and go to her. He wanted to hold her in his arms again, to feel her against his chest as she took comfort from him, to know that she was safe from harm. The fact that she allowed him to hold her, and took that comfort, gave him the smallest amount of hope that she was seeing him in a different light. A positive light. He wondered if maybe she didn’t hate him as much as she had, and if perhaps, if he waited long enough and was patient enough with her, and showed her how he had changed, then maybe she would return his affections.   
  
He wasn’t even sure when it had morphed into ‘wanting’ her in that way. Yes, he’d been attracted to her from the moment he saw her, but anyone would be. She was beautiful in the most unique of ways, with her smooth, hairless skin, and delicate features. Her hair was sometimes properly braided, but more times than not, it was loose, cascading down her back in thick, chestnut waves. Just as free and wild as she was. He gave a half-smile as he thought about how carefree she appeared, and he wondered what it would be like to be able to relax enough to just live in the moment as she appeared to. He watched her many times at the stables, or when she was with the residents of Erebor, and it never failed to bring a smile to his face. He still maintained that she was some kind of woodland sprite, escaped from the woods, and taken up residence here in his kingdom. With her dainty features and slim frame, she was not what he would have been drawn to prior to leaving the comfort of Erebor; It was only once he’d been forced out of his homeland, and was exposed to more races and had interacted with them, that he had even looked at females of other races, and saw them as anything other than horrid. 

But Rowan wasn’t necessarily a human, he frowned. To this day, he didn’t know exactly what she was, but then another thought occurred, just as fast: he didn’t even care ‘what’ she was, or where she came from, and he realized that whatever disdain he had for her previously, it was entirely gone. She had proven herself, time and time again, but he had been too hardheaded too see it. Too stuck in the past and in his misery to give her a chance. And he worried, more now that he’d realized he developed feelings for her, that he’d probably ruined any chance of her ever feeling anything for him. Perhaps she could grow to see him as a friend, or something similar, but he feared he’d damaged her too much to ever see him in any other light. Perhaps he was meant to live the rest of his days with no one, and he had only himself to blame for that. 

The fact that that bastard Dazmir had moved in so quickly told Thorin all he needed to know about Rowan’s popularity in his kingdom. Just being about and working, he’d heard rumors about her, about how so many dwarves were enchanted by the newcomer, and how they wanted to approach her. He’d tried to tune it out, to not hear it, but it was difficult to avoid. And it was harder to not be aggravated about it, to not want to smash every one of their faces in, these dwarves that wanted her for their own. His countenance darkened as he remembered how close she’d come to being raped by that bastard; He was still angry at her for being so foolish, so trusting of that dwarf. His frown grew as he realized how hypocritical he sounded. Was he not entertaining the same idea? Did he not want her to give him a chance when he himself had treated her so very badly? 

He sighed in resignation, because truthfully, it didn’t matter if she entertained him or not, for he was destined to be alone, if his earlier interaction was any indicator of his still-frozen heart. 

Once he’d laid eyes on Krovithra, on that beautiful dwarf upstairs, and had not been immediately affected, he realized exactly how lost he was. Krovithra was an ideal bride, and he should be grateful to have such an opportunity. Beautiful and poised, she came from a noble line of wealthy dwarves, a proud and well-known family in the Grey Mountains. And she was young and would provide him with an heir to the throne. And she was a dwarf. She was perfect for him in every way…

Except when he’d kissed her, all he felt was guilt. Guilt and shame, and no small amount of repulsion, because he knew in his heart that he shouldn’t be kissing her, and more importantly, he didn’t want to be kissing her. _Perhaps it would be better to be alone…_

When he’d run out of smoke, he stood, knowing he wouldn’t’ be able to go back to his room and relax without at least checking on her. He would just stop by, see that she was well, and be on his way. 

_And,_ he reminded himself, _he had a headache that needed to be treated. _

As he stood before her door, he felt less and less like a king, and more like a besotted commoner, no different than these other dwarves pining away for something he – nor they – had no business wanting. And he was almost positive that it didn’t matter how he felt, because she would surely never return any of his unwanted affections, and that was more depressing than he was prepared for. 

It didn’t matter. His need to see her was greater than any piece of logic…

He reached up and knocked on her door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goshhhh...can something just happen already?? I don't know about y'all, but I AM DYING.
> 
> Ughhh....


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is shortish, too. I couldn't cram both chapters in. And I still maintain this won't be 85 chapters.

After being sent to her home, Rowan would not see Thorin, nor would she hear anything for the rest of the day. Just as Thorin had said, Oin had come by and examined her, and gave her a clean bill of health. Rowan knew it was nothing more than a formality, as she was just as much a doctor as Oin was, but she also knew Thorin would raise hell if she didn’t at least allow Oin to step in and check on her. And so she had, and he did, and now all was quiet just as it was before. 

Except for the fact that she knew nothing about anything. In some ways, it grated on her nerves to have this known about her, what Dazmir had tried to do to her, and that she hadn’t been allowed to take part in his punishment. But another part of her instinctively knew that Thorin would handle it, in whatever way he saw fit. And his way would probably not be the way she thought it should be, so staying out of it was probably the best thing. Balin had told her as much just when he'd stopped by this evening, and she’d asked him about Dazmir. The old dwarf would only say that Dazmir would not be laying a hand on anyone ever again and told Rowan she shouldn’t worry about it. 

Easier said than done. 

She had no idea when she'd be allowed to go back to the stables, or if she even wanted to. She instinctively knew seeing that spot in the hay where she’d touched Dazmir and seen into his mind, knowing that just feet away from him, she had almost been raped…She knew it would be hard to go inside the stables. She wanted to see Lily, but she didn’t know if she wanted to go inside. It felt like it had somehow become a dirty place to her, even though nothing had really happened. She pressed her fingers at her throat, annoyed that the marks Dazmir had left on her skin were still there. She had rubbed some oil on them in an effort to dull them, but they remained, a physical reminder of what had happened...and what had almost happened. Just the thought of him – _or any man_ – putting their lips and hands on her in such a way, without her consent, and without consciousness, made her stomach roil. Her thoughts immediately went to Thorin, who’d put his hands on her in a very different way, and she became increasingly annoyed.

She’d spent the night in his arms –_ unbeknownst to her_ – and had turned to him for comfort when she had confronted Dazmir. Her cheeks heated with frustration. What was wrong with her, that her emotions were so confused? She had begun to think of Thorin in a different light, an almost forgiving light, but this thing with Dazmir made her think, and the more she thought about it, the more she was reminded of all the reasons she should hate Thorin Oakenshield. 

In a sour mood, she remained in her home, only stepping outside briefly to talk with Lofala out of obligation, as she saw the dwarf at the clothes' line. They chatted for a while, and Rowan got the distinct impression that something was amiss.

“What aren’t you telling me?” She asked the dwarf outright and watched as Lofala’s cheeks reddened. Her annoyance grew. “Whatever it is, just say it.” 

“There’s rumors, Rowan. Of you and the king.” Lofala leaned in close to whisper. “That he stayed in your room after the party.” 

“I was sick that evening, and the king brought me home to ensure my safety.” Rowan frowned as she recognized that she was defending him. Again. “That’s not a lie but I can assure you, and anyone else, there is nothing going on with me and Thorin.” 

Lofala gasped. “You speak of him so informally, miss!” 

“Please don’t read anything into it. There is nothing going on between the king and I.” Rowan was so annoyed at hearing there was another rumor about her. “Has anyone said anything else about me? Have you heard anything else?” 

Lofala stepped even closer. “Only that Dazmir was up to no good, and the king cut off his hand off for hurting you! That he will work in the mines, pushing a broom about with his one good arm when he’s able.” 

“Who told you that?” Rowan whispered as her stomach turned again.

“Just gossip, my friend,” Lofala gave a nervous chuckle. “Don’t go spreading it about. I don’t want it to be known that I’m spreading rumors.” 

“Well, it’s not rumors if it’s true, right?” Rowan spat out angrily, earning a concerned glance from Lofala. 

“I’ve made you mad, haven’t I?” The dwarf reached a hand out and touched Rowan on her forearm. “I’m sorry, my friend. I just thought you should know what’s being said.” 

“I don’t care what anyone says,” Rowan muttered. Her eyes traveled to other homes, looking to see if anyone was looking at her. Her eyes landed on her neighbor’s house where it sat empty. “Where is Halina? I haven’t seen her in some time, and now I’m starting to get worried.” 

Last Rowan had heard, Halina had gone to Dale to help, but that had been almost a month ago, and Rowan wasn’t entirely sure that it was the truth. The dwarf’s home sat just as it had when Rowan had first seen it, her curtains drawn, and laundry line empty. Where could she be? A part of her wondered if Thorin had kept his word and not punished her as he’d promised he wouldn’t. 

“I’m not sure,” Lofala shrugged. “I’m sure she’s fine, though. She’s a secretive lass. Quiet, and always keeping to herself.” The dwarrow grabbed another towel and strung it up on the line. “I was surprised that she moved down here permanently, as I thought she was going to reside in Erebor with the king and his family. Or return to the Blue Mountains with what’s left of her family.” 

“Why would she do that?” Rowan asked. “Is she related to them?” 

“Well, she almost was. Rumor says her sister was the king’s great love. Went by the name of Halla,” Lofala answered, and being that she had her back to her, the dwarf missed how all the color drained from Rowan's cheeks at the knowledge she’d just imparted, unaware. 

“Her name was Halla?” Rowan tried to sound unaffected but found her throat had tightened for some reason when she said the other woman’s name. Her callous words flung at Thorin that night came back to haunt her, and she felt shame rise up within. 

“Aye. She and Halina were twins, not identical mind you, but born on the same day. I’ve never seen Halla, but I heard she was a great beauty.” Lofala turned to Rowan. “And a handful. Apparently, she wanted to be married, but the king kept putting it off due to his grandfather. He would’ve never allowed the prince to marry so below his status, as Halla and Halina were simple miner’s daughters.” 

“And where is she now?” 

“Oh Rowan, Halla died in the dragon fire.” Lofala turned around to give a sad frown. “Halina gets choked up when talking about it, and I don’t think she’s forgiven the king for her sister. Not that it was his fault, mind you. Least not in my own opinion. How could he have saved everyone from that damned beast?” 

“Halina blames Thorin?” Rowan was trying to piece all this _‘mostly unwanted’_ knowledge together. She didn’t need any more information that would lead to more conflicting feelings about Thorin Oakenshield, but here it was, being heaped upon her so heavily. 

“Well, she’s never said it outright to me, but I don’t think she bears any goodwill towards our king. I’m not even sure why she traveled here from the Blue Mountains to return to his service. Maybe she feels connected to her sister through the king.” The dwarf shrugged her shoulders. “If it were me, I’d probably be too mad at everyone, and not want to be around him. It would be a painful reminder of what could’ve been.”

“Hmm,” Rowan hummed, distracted by her thoughts. “I think I’ll go home for the evening. I’ll see you later, Lofala.” She forced a smile as Lofala apologized again for the rumors and gossip, but Rowan shushed her with a wave of her hand. “Not your fault, and no reason to apologize.”

Rowan gave another tense smile, and then took her leave and returned home. Once inside, she angrily kicked off her shoes, and bathed before setting up the kettle to boil. A cup of tea, and her book would do her good this evening as she tried to not think about all Lofala had told her...


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of smut-ish stuff. Not what you want, I'm sure. Just FYI.

Sometime later, Rowan pulled her curtains closed for the night, and was about to settle down to write in her journal, when heavy knocks at her door startled her. 

She frowned, wondering who on earth would be bothering her so late? The only person she would expect to come calling so late would be someone from the Brookstone family, as Mrs. Brookstone was heavy with her baby, and Rowan would be assisting with the birth, which should be any day now. As dwarf babies were so rare, this baby was creating quite a stir in Erebor, what with being the first one to be born after retaking the mountain. She pulled the door open, a tired smile on her face which quickly deteriorated into a look of shock.

Thorin was standing on her doorstep.

“Thorin!” Rowan squeaked out. “Is something wrong?” 

“Be at ease, Rowan,” Thorin’s deep voice filled the space between them. He stood there, and she stood there, staring back at him. He quirked a brow. “May I come in?” 

“Oh! Of course!” She stepped aside and ushered him in. “Please excuse my mess…” – she grabbed a towel and some dishes and carried them to the small kitchen sink – “I wasn’t expecting any visitors so late.” 

Thorin walked further into the small space, and looked around, surveying what she’d done with her home, and was immediately impressed. He’d not really had a chance to look at it in the times he’d been here, as his focus had been solely on her. Indeed, he was impressed by her decorating skills. It was so small in comparison to his large quarters, but she had made this tiny space feel so much more welcoming than his cold room would ever be. She had flowers hung about, and brightly colored tapestries. There was a brightly colored rug on her floor. Her bed sat in the corner as it had before, neatly made, and fluffed with two pillows. A small fire burned in her fireplace, casting the room in a warm glow. Her small window was curtained, and on her table, was a vase full of flowers that had fragranced the air with their sweetness. Thorin ran his fingers over their blossoms, marveling at Rowan’s ability to bring color into the darkness that was the Lonely Mountain. Her small home felt entirely too inviting, and each time he came, he couldn’t help but feel like he wanted to sit down and rest for a bit. 

“Is something wrong?” Rowan wrung her hands at her waist, and then worried with her hair. She wasn’t expecting a visit from anyone, least of all the king. Why was he here? She was equally excited to see him, and terrified, and she was not sure which emotion was stronger. 

“No, nothing is amiss. I just wanted to come and see how you’ve been since the last time I saw you this morn.” He turned and gave her a tired smile. He beckoned at the empty chair at the table. “May I?” 

“Of course!” Rowan rushed to pull out the chair, but was halted, as Thorin did it himself and dropped down into it. She stepped back, away from him, as she began to feel that familiar anxiety rising within her at being so close to him. At being alone with him after what had transpired this morning, and the previous days. It was a mixture of fear and excitement, the unknown of what was going to happen, and it made her feel a little ill, truth be known. Her stomach was always doing funny things when he was around…

“Please forgive me for coming so late. And unexpectedly. I was working, and, as I said, I wanted to inquire about your wellbeing, after this morning, and…” Thorin trailed off when his eye landed on a piece of jewelry on the small table near her bed. He wondered who had given her such a thing, the sparkling emerald that he could see from so far away was not cheap by any stretch of the word. 

“And?” Rowan finished, needing him to keep talking. 

She was still so out of sorts with all that had happened with Dazmir, and now all this knowledge about Halla. And now Thorin was here. Her heart was palpitating in her chest, her breaths were shallow, and it was all she could do to remain standing. It felt like the king’s presence had sucked all the air from the room, and she was having a troublesome time breathing properly. She watched, fearful, as the king abruptly rose and walked to her table next to her bed, and when he turned around, her necklace hung from his closed fist. It was not the one he’d found at her destroyed home; this one was made of gold, with a large emerald hanging from the chain. 

“Where did you get this?” 

“I..I was given it by a miner.” She stepped closer, holding up a hand to take the necklace from him. She narrowed her eyes up at him. “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“By Dazmir?” Thorin turned harsh eyes to her, and Rowan shook her head. 

“No, by another. A friend. His name is Orimun.” 

“Orimun, aye?” Thorin murmured as he inspected the jewelry. His anger had diminished at first, then grew again at hearing that she’d been given this jewelry by a decent fellow. “I know him and his family well. He is a good dwarf, Rowan. Nothing like that bastard before.” He found it hard to sing Orimun’s praises, but he trudged on. 

“He works in the mines, I believe. He came to me for medicine. A cold.” Rowan felt so nervous having this conversation with him, and why she had no idea. 

Despite the strange, churning emotions inside his chest at seeing her again, and the ugly jealousy he felt at hearing she had more dwarfs interested in her, Thorin found himself smiling as he turned the pendant over and over in his fingers. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe she'd be happy with Orimun. “So, you’ve only been here a month, and you’ve yet another suitor outside of that trash Dazmir, then?” 

Rowan snorted in the most unladylike way, earning a bemused glance from Thorin. She quickly sobered and found her bearings. 

“I don’t have a suitor, nor do I want a suitor.” She scowled. “I think I learned my lesson with Dazmir.” 

“Are you sure about that? This is a courting gift, Rowan.” Thorin held out the necklace. She opened her palm and he dropped it in her hand. “Have you worn it?” 

“No, I didn’t want it to get dirty. I spend my time in the stables, or with the sick. I’m hardly one for fancy jewels, and such.” She gave the necklace another look before lifting her eyes up to see the king. He was less than a foot from her, and her breath caught at his proximity. She’d forgotten how vividly blue his eyes could be when he looked at her so, and they never failed to amaze her. 

“Had you put it on, it would have indicated your acceptance of this poor miner’s courting proposal.” 

“Really?” Rowan’s mouth had dropped open in shock, and Thorin couldn’t contain the chuckle that escaped him at her sweet naivety. Such an innocent little thing. He moved closer.

“So, my advice to you, little one, is either put it on-” he leaned down, ducking his head so that his eyes were level with hers – “or give it back so that my dwarf may give it to someone else.” He stood up straight and crossed his arms over his chest as he regarded her. 

“I’ll give it back tomorrow,” Rowan firmly decided. “Believe me, I’ve no interest in any dwarfs, not now, and not ever.” 

His heart lurching in his chest, Thorin frowned at her words. “He will be heartbroken, I’m sure.”

“I didn’t mean any offense, Thorin. I didn’t…” – She stopped talking when she caught Thorin’s smile in her direction. She pressed her lips. “What did I say now?” 

“Nothing. ‘Tis just strange to hear you use my name so casually after I spend all day hearing ‘my king this’, and ‘my lord this’.” The king pinned her with a teasing look as he continued. “It’s so casual.” 

Rowan found she was tongue-tied again, not knowing what to say. Being away from him for as long as she had, she’d not been forced to use his title or his name, and everyone else was on a first-name basis, and so it just came naturally to her. Was she supposed to call him something different now? Damnit!

“I’m sorry. My king.” She corrected herself, earning a small smile from him. 

Thorin arched a brow at her. “Please relax, Rowan. I remember telling you when we are alone that it was fine to address me by my first name, or have you forgotten again? And I am aware you don’t fully understand our customs insofar as courting goes, as you are not dwarf-kind, but it would behoove you to learn them as much as you can. Save yourself – _and that poor dwarf_ – the headache and heartache in the future.”

Rowan nodded in understanding. “I will. I’ll ask Lofala tomorrow to explain it all to me. And I’ll give this jewelry back to Orimun, with my sincere apologies. I meant no harm, and I didn’t know what was being offered when I accepted it. I hope I haven’t offended you or your kingdom.” 

“You do not offend me, Rowan,” the king murmured as he walked around her room. 

“No, but I do, remember? That last night when you were so sick, and I made mention of that individual’s name. Why did that cause such a reaction, Thorin?” Rowan found herself asking the question she’d wanted an answer to since she’d left him. Lofala’s words played in her head, and she had to know the truth, for whatever reason. And she needed to hear it from Thorin. She watched as his back stiffened, his shoulders tensing under his coat, and she sighed. “And by bringing it up, I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Forget I asked, and I’m sorry if I’ve offended you again.” 

“I am not offended, Rowan,” the king stated again. He turned to her and pinned her with his gaze before looking down again. “The person who’s name I called out that night…Who you heard….Her name was Halla.” The king walked to her table and ran a single finger over the wood, his brows drawn together in a frown as he traced the grain. “She was…someone I once loved. And someone I also lost to the dragon fire.” 

“Oh Eru,” Rowan whispered as she tried to feign ignorance. Again, it hit her, and she keenly understood the magnitude of what she’d said that night, and how she must have hurt him. “I didn’t know…I’m sorry.” 

“How could you know?” Thorin looked up to give her a sad smile. “Not very many did, save for Balin and Dwalin.”

_Lofala knows_…Rowan wanted to inform him but didn’t. And a part of her felt so guilty for asking all these questions when she had some working knowledge already. But she didn’t want Lofala to get in trouble, either. 

“She was Halina’s twin, though they hardly look alike. Halla was dark, and Halina, well you know what she looks like,” Thorin’s voice had turned wistful, and his sadness tugged at Rowan's heart. 

“Were you married?” She felt another wave of shame at asking a question she already knew the answer to. 

“Married? No,” Thorin gave a defeated sigh. “Another failure on my part. Always thinking I had more time. More time to court. More time to plan a wedding. More time to do all the things I should have done.” Thorin gripped the back of the chair at the table and squeezed until his knuckles turned white. “More time to save her when I went back in to save my grandfather.” 

“What do you mean?” Rowan asked softly. She sat down on the edge of her bed and waited for his answer. 

“When Smaug attacked, I sent Halla out of the mountain, with the others, so that I could go back in and ensure my grandfather was safe. He was not…_well_…as I’m sure you’ve heard, and had I not gone back for him, he would have also perished that day. In a split second, I made a decision, choosing my family over the one I’d promised my heart to. But I failed her, and him, and so many that day.” Thorin’s voice became strained as he recounted the events. “Like so many others, Halla did not make it out alive. The dragon was not content to just occupy Erebor. He wanted to destroy it’s people, and destroy he did.”

“Did you ever find her?” Rowan felt her eyes cloud with tears at the image of a young Thorin trying to save so many and failing. So much weight on his shoulders at such an early age. 

The king's head was bowed low, his shoulders drooped in his sorrow. “No, I did not. She was lost to dragon fire, never to be seen again.”

“Then maybe there’s a possibility she survived?” Rowan asked, hopeful. Thorin turned back to give her a ghost of a smile. 

“What must it be like to be so hopeful, even after so much hardship and lost? I envy you, Rowan. You have no idea how much I do.” Thorin leaned back against the chair, his hands bearing his weight as they held him up from behind him. 

“Envy me? I am naïve and stupid, with no knowledge of this world,” Rowan scoffed. Unbidden, her thoughts turned to her family and how they perished in the same kind of fire. Then she thought of Dazmir. And then of Thorin hurting her. She was so stupid, and so unprepared for this world. When she looked up to see Thorin, he was still watching her, his penetrating gaze on her, and she had a feeling that he was trying to see something in her, something deep in her soul. 

“I heard about Dazmir…what you did to him.” Rowan blurted out.

“You did?” Thorin looked down and kicked at the floor with the toe of his boot. “Rumors travel fast ‘round here, so I’m not surprised. Does it displease you, what I did?”

“No.” 

“Why?” Thorin asked her, his voice quiet, and when she looked at him, she found his eyes on her just as before, and just as intense. 

“Because you’re the king, and sometimes you are forced to do terrible things to yield results,” Rowan replied, just as softly. Something passed over Thorin’s face, some look, and Rowan felt really uncomfortable again. 

“Is there something you need, my king? Something I can help you with?” Rowan twisted her fingers together. It was uncomfortable to have him here, examining her room, and she stood like a child, awaiting whatever it was he wanted. 

“And it’s back to formal titles and work,” Thorin muttered with some strange emotion that Rowan felt sounded perhaps like sadness. “I did not come to speak of such dark things, Rowan, but I am glad that you now know. Perhaps it will help you understand me better.” He walked away and stood before a small painting of flowers on her wall. 

“However, I did come to seek your help with my headaches. They are still there, and still coming frequently.” Thorin turned back around to her, his hands at his back as he regarded her. “Can you help me with another concoction?” 

“Of course,” Rowan found herself smiling with relief, feeling more in her element as the conversation shifted to less personal things. She could make his medicine and he would be off. She gestured to the chair he’d occupied before. “If you want to sit, I’ll make you a brew really quick. And I’ll send some back with you so that you may make your own, as needed.” 

Thorin did as she asked and watched her from under hooded eyes as she quickly whipped up the tea. He couldn’t help but notice how she’d filled out since leaving Erebor. She was still slimmer than most, but her collarbones were no longer visible, her cheeks not so gaunt. Her dress fit her more snugly, revealing the soft curves of her body to his appreciative gaze. Her cheeks had a color to them, and she looked happy. She looked well, and it was hard to reconcile this woman before him, with the girl he’d had imprisoned in Erebor. He frowned at that memory, and hated himself a little more. 

“Is it bad?” Rowan asked, seeing the look on his face. Thorin cleared his throat and nodded.

“Yes, it is. The pain, it is all over, but mostly here.” He pointed at his temples and then his eyes. “So many times, I feel like my head is going to explode, and nothing brings me relief.” 

Rowan carried the tea over and placed it before him. He took the cup and started sipping as she continued to speak. “Well, there is something else we can try…” 

“What do you mean?” He asked as he set the tea down before him. 

“Sometimes, it’s not a headache, or in your case, your head injury. Sometimes, when we are tense, or stressed, as I imagine any king would be, we tighten our muscles up in our neck and shoulders. That can cause very bad headaches. And if we work those places out – _my mother called them knots_ – then we relieve the pain in our head and back and shoulders.” 

“What do you need to do?” Intrigued, he took another sip of her tea. 

“I would have to…touch you, Thorin. Use my…_uhhh_…fingers and hands to work out your…._knots_…” Rowan blushed as she stumbled over her words. Now that she’d offered, she desperately wanted to take it back. The idea of touching him was causing her entire body to flush so uncomfortably, and to be honest, she felt a little nauseous at the prospect. Why she was always feeling ill around him, she had no idea!!

“Okay,” was all Thorin managed, sounding entirely unsure, and Rowan leapt on that uncertainty. 

“If you’d rather not, I totally understand—"

“I agreed to it,” Thorin rolled his shoulders and moved around in the chair, situating himself further. “So please, do it. I’ll do anything for some relief.” 

“Uhmm…okay.” She reached out to touch his shoulder, and both jumped at the sudden contact. “Sorry. Maybe you should remove your coat. It’s very thick.” 

Thorin did as she asked, took off his coat, and then he was there, in her home, sitting at her table, and only wearing his deep blue tunic. Looking entirely too at home and like he belonged. From behind him, Rowan stared at the broad contours of his back, his muscles hewn by hard labor clearly evident even under his clothing. Images of him naked, in his bath flooded her memory, causing that same sick feeling in her stomach. He looked over his shoulder and cast a sly look at her. 

“Any other article of clothing you wish me to remove?” 

Rowan gasped at his audacity, earning a deep, throaty chuckle from Thorin. 

“No, but I can surely add something!” She reached over and grabbed a burlap sack and held it up. “How about this to go over that arrogant head of yours?

“I’m sorry, Rowan. I don’t mean to embarrass you, but I can’t resist seeing that sweet blush on your cheeks when I tease you so.” He pressed a hand at his heart, and sobered as she continued to stare daggers at him. “I’m sorry. I’m only joking. I won’t do it again. I swear. Please, work your magic and alleviate my headache, I beg you.” 

Her cheeks still burning, Rowan rolled up her sleeves, and moved to stand behind him. “I don’t work magic, Thorin. I’m not a witch. Remember?” She placed her hands above his shoulders. “I’m going to touch you now.” 

Thorin tipped his head in acknowledgement, and then Rowan placed her small hands on his broad shoulders. The king nearly let out a gasp of pleasure, and just only managed to control it before he embarrassed them both. Rowan began kneading his tight muscles, her deft fingers working out the “knots” and soreness, relaxing him in ways he’d not felt in so very long. Before he realized what was happening, he had laid his head down on his folded arms on her table, and had closed his eyes as she used her thumbs and fingers and hands to push and pull at him. He let out a moan of approval, a deep satisfying hum. It was the closest thing to pure bliss that he’d felt in Mahal knows how long, and he wanted it to never, ever end. 

“Does it feel okay?” She asked him, her sweet voice soft and soothing. 

Thorin could only manage a sleepy smile. Between the tea and her touch, he was feeling a peace he hadn’t felt in years. 

“Thorin? Am I hurting you?” 

Her breath was at his ear, warm and causing all sorts of sensations in his body. He didn’t care that she was so close to him, touching him in ways he’d not been touched in so long, and dragging up long pent-up desires that he’d forced down for so many years. Rowan was both calming him and exciting him, bringing him to life in so many ways, whether she knew it or not. He smiled. Right now, it was just him and her – just Thorin and Rowan - and all he cared about was that she kept touching him, kept softening him, kept soothing him and taking away his pain. 

“It feels like heaven. Please do not ever stop,” came his muffled reply. 

Hearing the contentment in his voice, Rowan smiled, feeling more encouraged to continue, and worked her fingers up his neck and into his hairline, kneading and rubbing at the tightness she found there. He was so stiff, so hard, and so very tense. No wonder he had headaches all the time! She kept working, and before long, the king was practically purring like a great big, cat, his soft sighs and steady breaths indicating that what she was doing was working like a charm. 

For Rowan’s part, she was enjoying touching him more than she cared to admit. 

Sure, she’d massaged other people, and did so quite frequently, and was able to do so with a methodical touch that affected her none. With those others, it was a job, and nothing more. With Thorin, she was scared that she was feeling as much pleasure as he was, and just by simply touching him. And this time, she wasn’t getting anything from him insofar as feelings or emotions, but she didn’t care that her gift wasn’t working the way it usually did with others. She could tell by the way his shoulders were becoming more pliable under her, by the way his breaths were steadying, and his eyes closing, that he was enjoying this as much as she was. Unable to help herself, she ran her fingers through his hair, alternating between scratching gently and rubbing, soft circular patterns all over his scalp. Her fingers drifted to his temples, and she pressed lightly, relieving pressure, and adding a gentle warmth. It was only after she’d leaned far over him to reach both temples and forehead that she realized that her entire torso was pressed against his strong back, and that she was practically hugging him from behind. Her breasts were flattened against him, and she became hyper-aware of her body in a way she had never, ever been before. She froze, and quickly pulled away. Thorin’s eyes popped open at the interruption. 

“Please don’t stop. I’ll pay you, give you anything you want. Just don’t stop doing what you’re doing.” 

“I don’t want to be inappropriate” Rowan mumbled. “I shouldn’t be touching you this way, in my home.” She backed away from him, and stood near her bed, her eyes downcast and face flaming with embarrassment. Her entire body was tingling, and she had the oddest feeling in her lower belly, as if she’d just jumped off an incredibly high cliff and was waiting to hit the bottom. 

With a sigh of reluctant acceptance, Thorin stood up, and when he turned to Rowan, his expression was unreadable. Dark and guarded, and it made her uneasy. She couldn’t tell if he was unhappy that she’d stopped, or what, and her anxiety began inching up with the fear that she’d displeased him in some way. It had been so long that she’d seen him mad with her, and they’d been so tolerant with each other, and she didn’t want that to end. 

“Are you mad at me? For stopping?” Her voice sounded pitiful, even to her own ears. 

“No, Rowan. I’m not mad at you for stopping.” His lips flattened. “I am only disgusted with myself for ever having made you feel so afraid of me as you are now. That you would be in fear of not continuing.” 

“I’m not afraid of you, Thorin,” Rowan weakly protested, earning a timid smile from Thorin. "Not anymore."

“Liar.” The tease in his voice drew her eyes up to his. Whatever humor he had faded as he grew somber. “You are. I can see you shaking from here.” 

“I’m cold,” Rowan tried, earning another sad smile from the king. 

She had no idea why she was trying to appease him, to convince him she wasn’t scared, when even now her body shook like a leaf. Was it fear, though, that caused such a reaction? Or something else? Maybe she didn’t want him to leave. Maybe she feared him more than she was aware of. Maybe she wanted his arms back around her like she had in the stables. Maybe she was afraid he’d raise a hand to her as he’d done before. Maybe she wanted to lay against his strong chest and sleep.

_Maybe she was insane. _

“If there was some way that I could go back and undo the damage I’ve done to you, I would, Rowan. With my whole heart I wish that.” Thorin’s voice had grown gruff. “I have no excuse to give you, just as I didn’t before. And you have every right to recoil from me as you do.” 

“Maybe I just need time to get to know you,” Rowan whispered down to her hands. The air in the room was tense, grown entirely too intimate with such heavy conversation. 

“And what would you find, should you get to know me?” Thorin pressed. “You already know more about me than most, and you’ve seen firsthand how dark I can be. What else is left, do you think?” 

“The good parts.” Rowan’s eyes met his, almost as if she were challenging him. 

“What if there’s no good left in me?” Thorin asked, doubt heavy in his voice. 

“I don’t believe that to be true.” Rowan tried to smile but found she couldn’t manage it. “And, as far as the other stuff, I told you I’ve forgiven you, remember?” 

“But you haven’t forgotten,” Thorin rejoined, and Rowan nodded in agreement. At her nonverbal answer, Thorin’s shoulders seemed to sink a little further, and Rowan found herself moving towards him until she was mere inches from him. He was still focused on some spot on the far wall, his jaw tensed under his beard, his brows drawn together.

“Honestly, Thorin, you confuse me. I both want to be around you, and away from you, and I don’t understand that about myself.” Rowan forced herself to not reach out and touch him; She desperately wanted to. And when Thorin turned to her, and looked at her fully, Rowan saw such a sadness in his eyes that it made her heart hurt in her chest. 

“I don’t know why I come here, because I know that I should not,” he softly confessed. “Every time I do, I do not want to leave when it comes time.” 

Rowan didn’t know how to answer that and found that she’d lost her words. She stood there, her arms wrapped around herself protectively. 

“But you are right. We shouldn’t be doing this.” He tucked his coat at his arm and stepped nearer her. His keen eyes saw how Rowan flinched and stiffened the closer he got, and so with a frown, he stopped, and stepped back, moving away from her. He reached in his coat pocket, and pulled out a bag of coins, and dropped them on her table. “For your services, my lady.” 

Rowan was going to protest the payment, but in a matter of seconds, Thorin was gone, having disappeared into the night. She stepped outside, searching for him, but found he had been swallowed up by the darkness. She went back inside and leaned against her door, her heart pounding in her chest at all that had just happened. She slowly walked over to the table and eyed the coins, knowing that she could use that money, but not wanting any kind of tether between her and the king. It was then that she saw the bag of herbal medicine for his headache, left abandoned on the far edge of her table. She wanted to take it to him, but logically she knew it could wait. It needed to wait. She was in no state to run after him now, and shaky with anxiety, she remade her tea, and tried to settle down as she had before, but found it much more difficult this time. Eventually, after much tossing and turning and angry flinging of her covers, she finally fell into an exhausted slumber.

It didn't last long though. 

That night, Rowan would have feverish dreams of the king under the mountain, each one dragging her further and further into his spell. She awoke late in the night, her body drenched in sweat, from a dream comprised entirely of images that made her face flame with shame and her body warm with wet arousal that coated her panties and slicked the insides of her thighs. She tried desperately to go back to sleep, to force the images of Thorin’s strong, beautiful body from her mind, but found that her fingers had a life of their own as they snaked their way down between her legs. When she finally managed to work herself into a strangled release, it was Thorin’s name that fell from her lips in a muted scream, and it was Thorin that continued to play behind her eyes as she finally drifted back off into a deep sleep…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I'm making stuff up with this courting business. I have no idea.


	35. Chapter 35

The next day, Rowan found it near impossible to stop thinking about Thorin.

About how he felt under her hands. About how she felt when she’d pressed against his back. About how he’d talked to her, calmly.

She blushed furiously as she recounted the dreams she’d had about him. She could hardly concentrate on anything, and before she had talked herself out of it, she was making her way up to the great hall to look for him at breakfast. The bag of medicine was with her, and that would be the excuse. She tried to tell herself it was not as if she wanted to see him just for the sake of seeing him…

“Why hello, lassie!” Balin intercepted her as she crossed the hall. He opened his arms for a warm hug, and Rowan embraced him. 

“Hello, Balin. How are you?” 

“I am well. And you?” He eyed the satchel at her side. “And where are you off to so early this morn?” 

“Thorin…I mean, the king, he left this at my…house…and I wanted to return it to him.” Rowan couldn’t hide the blush that spread over her cheeks. 

“He is not back yet from his ride about the perimeter, but I imagine he will ‘ere too long. He’s been gone since dawn.” Balin cocked his head and eyed her speculatively. “I’m going to ask you the same question I asked you long ago, and you are under no obligation to answer, but has your opinion of our king changed?” 

Rowan pressed her lips and sighed. It was no use lying to Balin, and she wasn’t going to try. “A little.” She held up her thumb and forefinger, pinched together to indicate how much. “A tiny little bit.” 

Balin laughed. “I suppose that’s better than nothing, and at least it hasn’t decreased.” 

“One never knows with Thorin, though, do they?” Rowan gave a wry smile as she looked away from the old dwarf.

The truth was, she didn’t know how she felt about him in any given moment. All she knew, right now, was that she wanted to experience again what she had felt with him last night. She almost desperately needed to know if that Thorin was still available. 

* * *

Some time later, Rowan had given up on Thorin returning, and dejected, had headed back to go and check on a few patients to try and pass some time. It was lucky for her that she did, because Mrs. Brookstone was in the throes of labor, and was about to deliver any moment now. As Rowan assisted the dwarrow with the birth, she couldn’t help but be just as excited as the others around. The only one not as excited was the husband, Baddim Brookstone. He was fit to be tied, equally excited and terribly nervous, and it was all Rowan could do to get him out of the room, and calmed before the real adventure began. The last thing his wife, Atana, needed was the extreme anxiety her husband was projecting while she tried to birth their child. 

Rowan placed a hand at the husband’s shoulder and looked him square in the eye. 

“Women have babies every day, Baddim. This is no different.” She smiled in encouragement. “And your wife, she is so strong and healthy. This will be over before you know it.” 

The dwarf swiped at his face. “This is the first one, and…she’s in so much pain…” He looked back over to the bed where his wife lay, writhing in agony. 

“All normal. The labor pains bring baby down and out,” Rowan explained. “And I have medicine to take the edge off.” 

“But what if she…” the dwarf’s words died off as another moan came from his wife. His worried eyes met Rowan’s again for support. 

“She’ll be fine. The baby will be fine. But I need you to go in there and hold her hand and support her. Encourage her. Can you do that?” Rowan squeezed his shoulder. “I need you to be just as strong as she is, because she will need you before this is over. Do you understand?” 

Baddim nodded, and followed Rowan back in the house. 

* * *

It would be 13 hours later that a newborn wail would split the night, his little screams announcing that the first birth since the reclaiming of Erebor had just been successful. With a weary sigh, Rowan cleaned and swaddled the baby, and handed him to his father. She was so tired, and running on pure adrenaline. 

“You have a son, Baddim. A big, strong healthy son.” She pressed a kiss at the baby’s head and smiled at his father. Baddim was speechless, and Rowan gave another smile as she turned back to mom. 

“You did so good, Atana. So good.” Rowan gently pushed some hair off the new mom’s head. “I’m going to make you some more medicine for the pain, and then we’ll get you all cleaned up, okay?” 

“Thank you so much,” Atana whispered, weary, but with a smile on her face as she stared at her husband and newborn son.

Rowan gave another sweet smile to the exhausted mother, and replied, “No, thank you for allowing me to be a part of this.” 

Rowan, with the help of Lofala, quickly and efficiently helped clean up Atana, removing all the afterbirth and other bodily fluids, and helping the new mother get into clean clothes so that she could rest. The bedding was changed, and medicine administered. Baby had begun feeding from his mother's breast, and Rowan finally felt she could relax. Once she was satisfied that she’d done all she could, she informed Atana and Baddim that she was going to step outside and take a break. Lofala would remain to look after them since all seemed to be going well. The new mom and dad didn’t even see her step out, so enraptured with their new baby. 

“Oh thank Eru,’ Rowan whispered as she stepped out into the fresh air and took some deep breaths.

It was late evening or early morning –_ she had no idea which_ – but all of Erebor was quiet save for the occasional random noise. As she worked at the muscles in her aching neck, she sighed, wishing dearly for a warm bath and some tea. She’d not slept in over 24 hours now, and helping a new mom labor was beyond exhausting. And emotionally draining. She leaned against a stone ledge, and closed her eyes. 

“Someone told me you were looking for me this morning.” 

Rowan’s eyes jerked open at that deep voice and saw Thorin emerge from the shadows. He had a sweet smile on his face, which Rowan returned, albeit tiredly. 

“I was,” she replied. “But please don’t ask for any headache medicine right now, because I am completely exhausted.” 

Thorin approached, and Rowan felt that familiar excitement coursing through her veins at seeing him after what felt like forever. In reality, it had only been less than a day, but still…

“It seems you are the one in need of headache medicine,” Thorin became concerned. 

“It’s just my neck,” Rowan grumbled as she rubbed at the spot at the base of her skull. “How long have you been there?” 

“I have only just come. I was still working myself, and did not find you at your home. I was told by your neighbors that you were here.” 

“Oh,” was all Rowan answered. She was still in shock that he was here, and seeking her out. 

“May I?” Thorin asked, nodding at her shoulders that she was still rubbing. “I would return the favor you did for me yesterday.” 

Rowan hesitated for just a moment, but then swallowed down her fear, and presented her back to Thorin. In doing so, she missed the huge smile of relief that broke out on his face, and from the moment his large, warm hands rested atop her shoulders and began kneading, she could not contain the sighs that escaped. 

“It’s good?” Thorin asked, the uncertainty strong in his tone. His hands slowly worked over her shoulders and neck, soothing the burning ache and loosening tense muscles. 

“Very,” Rowan hummed in approval. “Please keep going.” 

Thorin did so, and they stood silent for a moment longer. 

“So, I hear we have a new resident.” 

“Yes, you do. A son.” Rowan happily announced. “Baddim was so anxious. He was driving me insane! You’d think he was the one giving birth!” She let out a giggle as she remembered how the dwarf had begun swaying on his feet when the baby first crowned, and how Lofala had to hold him up for a great majority of the entire birth. 

Thorin hmphed. “I imagine any husband would be worried for his wife going through such an event.” 

“It’s labor, Thorin. Not war.” Rowan tilted her head forward, allowing him to access more of her neck. She nearly groaned with pleasure when his fingers eased up her neck and into her hair, his short nails scratching at her scalp in the same way she’d done him. She could fall asleep right here, right now if she just closed her eyes for a minute more. 

“From all of the screaming that my sister did birthing my nephews, I would think they were one and the same.” He pressed his thumbs at her spine, applying just enough pressure to cause another sigh to escape past her lips. “I cannot imagine the one I love going through that kind of pain.” 

“Do you want children?” Rowan found herself asking.

She was so relaxed, her neck and upper back gone limp under the king’s skillful hands. Her eyes had closed as she allowed him to touch her as he would, and she realized that in this moment, she was not afraid of him. It was strangely relieving to not have to be so anxious around him, to be able to let her guard down. What she really wanted to do was lean back into his chest and let him to continue his work, but she dared not. 

“I do.” The king answered plainly as his fingers continued massaging her. 

“How many would you like? And boy or girl?” 

“As many as Mahal blesses me with,” Thorin smiled, wistfully. He’d never talked about children with Halla. Strange. “And I can’t say which I would prefer, because I know that I would care for them all the same.” 

“I would like to have two boys and two girls,” Rowan confessed around a huge yawn which she tried to hide with the back of her hand. 

“So many!” Thorin exclaimed with a grin. He squeezed her shoulders one final time, and Rowan turned around to stare up at him.

She was smiling, and Thorin was a bit taken aback at how beautiful she appeared in this very moment. Her hair was a messy bun atop her head, with loose tendrils swirling about. Circles under her eyes had appeared due to lack of sleep, but he thought she had never been more pretty than now. She really loved her work and what she did, and it showed. Unable to help himself, he reached out and tucked a curl back behind her ear, frowning at her appearance as he took the liberty of caressing her cheek with his palm. 

“You look exhausted.” 

“That’s your polite way of saying I look bad, ‘eh?” Rowan teased, though she was grinning up at him. She let out another yawn, earning a deeper frown from the king. 

“I don’t think it possible for you to look anything other than beautiful,” Thorin countered. “But I think you need to get some rest, little one. You’re no good to anyone if you don’t take care of yourself.” 

Rowan’s heart had thumped in her chest, and she was stood still in mute shock at the king’s words, with absolutely no idea how to respond to such flattery from him. _He_ _thought her beautiful?!_ And the way he had been touching her was nothing short of soothing and sweet, but also so very intimate. Her stomach was flipping in that nauseating way, and she had the insane urge to push herself into his chest, to linger in his warm embrace, and not let him go. She stood there, blinking up at him, her heart pounding in her chest, as Thorin looked down at her from under hooded eyes. 

**“Rowan!” **

Lofala's voice dragged them both out of their thoughts, and Rowan found herself aggravated at the interruption. She looked over her shoulder and called out to the dwarf stood in the doorway of the Brookstone’s home. 

“I’ll be right there!” 

Lofala’s eyes widened as she saw who Rowan was talking to, and enthusiastically nodded before scurrying back inside. Rowan turned back to the king; her mouth set in an apologetic grin. His eyes were on the door to the Brookstone’s residence as he looked over her shoulder, his lips pressed. 

“There will be more rumors about us after tonight,” Thorin quietly seethed, though his expression softened as looked down at Rowan. “I’m sorry if I’ve put you in a bad position by coming here. I can’t go anywhere without gossip following me about.” 

“Let them talk,” Rowan shrugged. “They’ll do it no matter what.” 

After a few moments, Thorin’s countenance softened further, and that grin appeared again. “Let’s go for a ride tomorrow. Get out of Erebor and all these prying eyes. Will you come with me?” 

“And have you get eaten by a warg again? I don’t think so!” Rowan protested with a shake of her head. 

“That was a rare thing to happen, Rowan.” Thorin stepped closer. “And besides, all is fine, is it not?” 

“Where would we go?” She indecisively worried her lower lip with her finger. “And can I take Lily?” 

“Just down along the river, not too far from Erebor.” His smile widened. “And yes, you can take Lily, or whichever horse you want.” His voice lowered an octave. “Or you are welcome to ride with me.” 

Rowan swallowed the ball of nerves that was lodged in her throat, and shook her head. “I think it best if we take our own horse.” 

Thorin nodded. “I am inclined to agree with you.” 

“What time?” 

“Afternoon, perhaps? That way you can catch up on sleep, and I can attend these damned meetings in the morning.” He frowned, remembering he had to meet with Lord Korvath again at breakfast. It would be an awkward - _but necessary_ \- conversation that must be had in regards to Krovithra. Thorin simply could not go through with the ruse. Not anymore. 

“Okay,” Rowan nodded. “I’ll meet you at the stables after lunch, then?” 

Thorin nodded. “Goodnight, Rowan. Get some rest, okay?”

“Goodnight, Thorin. And thank you for coming.” She gave him one last smile as she turned away and headed back to check on mother and baby. 

As she walked, she could feel Thorin’s eyes on her, and it did nothing to ease the rapid thrumming of her heart in her chest. Once inside the residence, she refused to meet Lofala’s eyes, for she knew the insinuation she’d see in the dwarrow’s eyes. She wasn’t ready for explanations or discussion, because she herself had no idea what had just happened with the king. She was quite literally in a state of shock, and was too tired to even begin to try and untangle her jumbled thoughts about Thorin. Instead, she focused all of her energy on tending to Atana and the new baby, and put the king from her mind. 


	36. Chapter 36

Lord Korvath stared daggers over the table at the king, his food long forgotten due to the subject matter at hand. Thorin stared back at him, impassively. Unbothered. 

“I take it you are displeased with my decision.” 

“Displeased is hardly the word I’d use to describe such a rejection!” Lord Korvath hissed as he finally found his voice. 

“Rejection?” Thorin puzzled. “I didn’t realize there was a courting in place that could be rejected. In fact, I don’t remember any relationship at all between your daughter and I, save for the one you’ve tried to force.” 

Thorin had listened to Korvath go on and on about how smitten his daughter was with him, and about how excited she was, and how great for the kingdom this merger would be. It was when Korvath began discussing dates that Thorin recognized he needed to put a stop to all the wedding talk before it fully spiraled out of control. Korvath, just as he’d anticipated, was none too pleased. 

“You have kissed her, have you not? She told me so!” Lord Korvath charged. He leaned over the table, and slapped a sweaty palm down in fury. “Who’s to say that’s all you’ve done with my daughter? How do I know she’s pure?” 

“Careful, Korvath. I’d mind my tongue if I were you,” Thorin warned in a low growl. “What may or may not have transpired between your daughter and me is none of your concern, but I can certainly assure you, if she is no longer pure –_ as you’ve so eloquently put it_ – it is not because of me.” 

“And I suppose I must just take your word on it?” 

“I don’t care who’s word you do or do not take.” Thorin took a sip of his warm tea as he tried to rein in his temper. Korvath was pushing him to very edge of his damned limits. “The point of this conversation is to inform you that I will not now –_ nor will I ever_ \- enter into a courting relationship with your daughter. She is a lovely dwarrowdam, and will make someone very happy, but it will not be with me.” 

“It’s because of that witch that resides in the residences, isn’t it?” Lord Korvath spat. Thorin’s brow darkened. “Rumor is all about, my king. That you and she are consorting. That you are spending all your free time with a prisoner that you once held below.” Korvath’s voice dipped, and when he spoke, it was almost mockingly. “That you are dallying with a witch you nearly beat to death.” 

Thorin took in a deep breath, seeing red, but knowing he needed to remain diplomatic. He waited a moment before speaking, and when he did, his words were so low as to barely be heard. 

“You may listen to and spread any rumor about that you see fit, but I promise you this, if you speak another ill word about my healer, I will kill you myself.” He leaned forward, his eyes flashing icily. “Am I in any way unclear?” 

“Perfectly clear,” Korvath gritted out from between clenched teeth. At Thorin’s risen brow, he finished with a sarcastic - “_My king_.” 

“Very good,” Thorin rejoined, his icy blue eyes never leaving Korvath who had now stood and was pushing in his chair. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I must go and find my daughter.” Korvath stiffly stated. Thorin nodded, and the dwarf made a hasty exit. As Thorin watched him depart, he couldn’t help but feel that it wouldn’t be the last he saw of Korvath…or his daughter. 

“Well, that went well, didn’t it?” Dwalin chuckled at Thorin’s right. On the other side, Balin sighed. Loudly. 

“He’ll be singing like a bird all the way back to the Grey Mountains!” The old dwarf lamented. 

“I don’t care, Balin. Who he talks to or what he says, I don’t care.” Thorin took another drink. 

“The other clans will never accept her, Thorin,” came Dwalin’s voice again. “She is no dwarf, nor is she a human. They will only ever see her as a witch. You know that.” 

“Then I will make them see her differently!” Thorin slammed his fist down, rattling drinks and plates. “Or I will rewrite the laws on our books! Am I not the king? Can I not do as I see fit and rule the way I see fit?" 

Dwalin crossed his arms over his chest. “What a hell this will raise….”

“Is it any worse than my nephew with an elf?” Thorin quipped. “I never thought I’d see that day, either, but here we are.” 

“Kili is not the king, Thorin,” Dwalin reminded, and Thorin’s mood sank again. 

“It doesn’t matter, Dwalin.” Thorin stood. “She will not have me, so worry not your ugly heads on my behalf.” 

“Ugly heads?” Dwalin grunted as he followed suit and stood. 

“The ugliest!” Thorin continued goading the dwarf warrior as he adjusted his belt, and tugged on his gloves. 

“Where are you going, laddie?” Balin asked as he stood. Thorin said nothing, only gave a wave of his hand as he disappeared off into the halls and out of sight. The brothers stood there, annoyed, shaking their heads, and it was Dwalin that spoke first and broke the silence. 

“Well, I suppose our only saving grace is that the witch wants nothing to do with Thorin.” 

Balin turned his head and shook it in disbelief. “You are blind, brother. That girl is more besotted with Thorin than even she realizes. Those two will end up together, mark my words.” 

Dwalin scoffed and grinned, but eventually his humor faded as he realized his brother was entirely serious. “You’re certain about this?” 

Balin shook his head again at his daft brother, and made for the exit. “Where do you think he’s run off to, you idiot!” 

Dwalin stared at Balin, and then at the direction Thorin went, and then back to the direction his brother went, and scowled as he followed. _How was he always the last one to know everything? _

* * *

Rowan stared at the entrance to the stable, her heart pounding in her chest as she willed herself to go inside. For some stupid reason, she felt tears welling, and she desperately dashed them away, only to have her eyes flood all over again. She turned around to leave but slammed right into Thorin’s chest. He caught her about her upper arms, and after taking one look at her tear-streaked face, pulled her into his arms to hold her. 

“What’s the matter?” 

“I can’t go in there, Thorin. I can’t.” She was softly crying, her body shaking as he held her. He led her over to a bale of hay sat outside the stable, and sat down, pulling her with him. Luckily, they were around the edge of the stable and away from prying eyes. For the moment. 

“Talk to me,” Thorin coaxed her. “Why can’t you go in there?”

“You know why!” Rowan snapped, angry with him for being so daft. 

“But Lily is in there, and Cocoa,” Thorin gently reminded. “And Bongo, and Myrtle, and all the others. They are all in there, and all waiting for you.” 

“I don’t think I can go in there,” Rowan shook her head again, and wiped at her nose. “It feels... gross.” 

“And it probably will until you face it, little one.” Thorin gently tipped her chin up and forced her to meet his eyes. His heart broke at the fear reflected back at him. “You are stronger than that. You know that, right?” 

“Can’t we just build a new stable, and move everyone?” 

Thorin stifled a laugh at her reasoning. “Later, when I carve some time out, I’ll build you a huge stable, whatever you want, but right now, your horse and mine are inside, and we need to go get them if we are to take our ride.” 

“Or you could just go and bring them out,” Rowan pouted at his stupid logic. Thorin smiled. 

“Aye, I could, but would that help you move past this?”

“I don’t think I’m ready!” Rowan lowered her head as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. “To see that spot where he…where…” 

“But I’ll be with you the whole time, and no one will do anything to you, so long as I’m here.” Thorin tilted her chin up again. “Take my hand and come with me.” He stood and pulled her up. His fingers laced with hers, and Rowan clasped her other hand over the top of their joined hands. 

“Don’t let go of me,” she whispered as she moved behind him. 

“I promise,” Thorin gave a smile and started walking. Rowan was behind him, still clutching his hand, while her other hand clutched the fabric of his shirt as she hid her face in his back. They moved through the stables until they reached Lily. 

“Can I let go of you for a few minutes to get your horse?” Thorin had turned around, and now Rowan had her forehead pressed firmly against the center of his chest. He had untangled his hand from her, but now she had resorted to holding him at his waist. “Rowan?” 

“Okay,” came her muffled reply. Thorin gave a squeeze at her shoulders, and then moved from her to get the horses ready. Rowan stood, her head bowed and eyes firmly on the ground at her feet. 

“Letting Lily out now,” he explained as he worked. “Here she comes, Rowan.” 

Rowan felt the pony sidle up to her, and then she felt the warm breath and soft whiskers as Lily nuzzled her cheek. She wrapped her arms the pony’s neck and pressed into her soft form, grateful for the strength she could draw, and a few moments later, Thorin had returned with his own horse. Rowan would not lift her head, and only looked up enough to see the tops of his boots. 

“We’ll saddle them outside,” Thorin explained as he grasped Rowan’s hand in his and tugged. Rowan took Lily’s halter in her other hand and followed Thorin out and into the sunshine. 

Once outside, she breathed out huge sigh of relief at being out of the stables, and gave Thorin a tense smile. He let his horse go and stood before her, and one large hand came up to cup her cheek. 

“You were very brave, little one.” 

“I was ridiculous and childish, Thorin. Don’t pretend otherwise. Worse things have happened to other people and they get on just fine.” Rowan tried to pull away but Thorin wouldn’t let her go. 

“If you drown in three inches of water or thirty feet, have you not still drowned? What you experienced was very hard, so do not compare it to anyone else. And does my opinion of your strength count for naught?” He teased, earning a reluctant look from Rowan. She saw he was sort of smiling, and she found her sour mood dissipating. 

“It counts for a little. I guess.” 

The king laughed, and winked down at her. “Well, I suppose that’s better than none!” 

Together, they finished preparing the horses, and soon after were racing down the road leading out the far gates and headed toward the river. The guards and anyone they passed appeared to not "see" anything, but Rowan knew there would be more and more rumors. She simply didn't care, and allowed herself to feel the freedom that came from riding her own horse, and at her own speed. And Lily seemed entirely thrilled to be able to properly stretch her legs. Thorin led with his faster horse, and Rowan followed beside him, and a half-hour later, they eventually stopped at a small clearing bordering the river. 

As they dismounted, Thorin took care of the horses, and kept a watchful eye on the forests. He was certain no harm would come from this place, as across the River Running was The Woodland Realm, and King Thranduil had guards all about. And the opposite side was Erebor, which he himself had made sure was being watched at all times. They were quite safe here, unlike where they had visited before. After seeing to the horses, he made his way to Rowan. She was sat at the edge of the river, her boots off, and toes wiggling in the cold water. He frowned with perplexion. 

“Is it not cold?” 

“It’s freezing!” Rowan giggled up at him. 

“And yet you have your bare feet in it,” Thorin marveled at her as he sat down. He cast a sideways glance at her. “Don’t even ask. I am not taking off my boots.” 

“Spoil sport,” Rowan teased. She leaned back on her hands, letting her face catch the sun’s rays overhead, and sighed in contentment. Thorin watched her, happy that she was happy. 

“You look very content to be out here.” 

“I am,” Rowan smiled at him. “I love being outside and in the sun.” 

“And not being stuck in a dirty mountain,” Thorin mused quietly. 

“It does get a little depressing sometimes, but I can always go outside, Thorin.” Rowan turned to him. “Don’t you like it out here? Amongst the trees and grass and the river? The fresh air and sunshine?”

“I was born under the mountain, grew up in the mountain, and I will probably die in the mountain.” Thorin stared across the river. “The darkness and living under stone is all I know.” 

“And all I knew was nature and outside, until I moved into Erebor,” Rowan reminded. “People can change, Thorin. And it doesn’t have to be one or the other. You can have both.” 

“We are very different, you and I.”

Rowan said nothing by way of answer. She began to get chilled and pulled her feet up to warm them under her bottom, and the two sat in companionable silence for a while. The river flowed nosily, the horses munched on grass and weeds. Birds flew overhead, dragonflies and butterflies flitted about, and all Rowan could think was how peaceful it was. Relaxed by the sun’s rays, she lay back and stared up at the clouds as they floated by. 

“You seem at ease, Rowan.” Thorin smiled over at her, and he wished he could relax like that. 

“I feel safe with you.” 

“That is a very different sentiment than before,” Thorin’s’ voice sounded gruff, even to his ears. 

“I wasn’t safe with you before. I feel that I am now.” 

“I don’t know what to say to that, or how to answer, or if I should—”

Rowan gave a huff of a laugh as she interrupted: “Don’t say anything, Thorin. Just let it be and take it for what it is.” 

“I am sorry for before.” Thorin’s voice was thick with regret. 

“I know you are,” Rowan forgave. “But that’s over, so please, don’t bring it up any more.” 

They sat in silence for a bit longer, before Thorin spoke. His conscience was eating him up, and he felt he owed her the truth, no matter how damaging it might be. She was beginning to trust him – _to trust in him_ – and he would be damned if he kept anymore secrets from her. No matter how it would affect him, she deserved nothing less than the truth. 

“I need to tell you something.” Thorin twisted his fingers at his thighs, restlessly. “And I don’t know how you’ll feel, or if you feel anything at all, or if you’ll even care, but I feel I must be honest. Rumors are flying about, and I want you to hear it from me before something gets twisted about and turned into something it's not.” 

Rowan sat up, her heart in her throat as she gave a look at Thorin. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him so nervous before, and his unease made her uneasy. 

“I…well…you see…we have visitors in Erebor from the Grey Mountains.” Thorin stumbled over his words. “Lord Korvath…and his daughter. Lady Krovithra.” 

At the mention of those people from the Grey Mountains, Rowan felt icy unease snake up her spine. Still, she said nothing, though her heart was thrumming so loud she would swear everyone from here to Erebor could hear it. Thorin was about to break her heart, and way deep down, she knew it before he’d even said a word. The look currently on his face told her more than any of his words ever would. 

“The night after the stable incident, I went on a walk with her, and…” Thorin rubbed a hand at his neck. “And well, I…she and I, that is…we….”

“What, Thorin? I hate secrets, so whatever it is, just spit it out and be done with it.” 

“I might have kissed her.” 

Silence ensued. Deafening, overwhelming silence. 

Rowan took a deep breath and forced the question through her teeth. “Might have?” 

“Did,” Thorin cringed as he corrected himself. “I did kiss her.” 

“Hmmm,” was all Rowan came back with. She was sat there, her insides churning, and she didn’t know whether she wanted to scream at him, or cry, or what. Really, what she wanted to do was hit him upside his handsome head, truth be told. She’d seen Krovithra from afar – had actually gone in search of her after Bofur told her about her – and found that the dwarf maiden was everything Rowan had been told she was: nothing short of beautiful, refined, proper and cultured, and all the things Rowan could never be; There was no way Rowan could ever hope to compete with that. No way at all. Bitterness at her lot in life, at her social status and birthright, at her plain looks and stupid naivete - all bubbled up inside her like a volcano ready to erupt. 

“Can you say something?” Thorin angrily plucked at some grass. 

“What would you like me to say, Thorin?” Rowan asked him with a false sweetness. “I’m happy for you. She’s beautiful. You’ll make beautiful babies. And you owe me nothing. We don’t owe each other anything.” 

“What does that mean?” He was scowling now, his brow darkened. “Rowan?”

“It means, Thorin, that you don’t owe me any explanation, nor do I owe you one. We are not in any way bound together, and we don’t owe the other any explanation as to who we spend our time with.” 

“I do not spend time with her,” Thorin charged. Rowan snorted in disagreement. 

“Apparently you do! At least enough time to kiss her!” Very annoyed, Rowan stood up and dusted off her bottom. She grabbed her boots and shoved them on her feet. Thorin also stood and followed her to the horses. 

“What, so now you’re angry with me and want to leave?” he flung his hands out in exasperation. “We just got here.” 

“Yes, and you’ve already ruined it for me.” Rowan sneered at him. “You can stay here as long as you’d like, no one is forcing you to go anywhere.” She untangled the bridle with angry fingers, cursing him, but more herself for being so upset over something so stupid. He didn’t owe her a damn thing, so why she cared who he was kissing was beyond her! In fact, he might have done her a favor, what with all these stupid dreams and idiotic fantasies she continued to have about him! 

“You are ridiculous!” Thorin reached over and jerked the reins from her, untangling them much more efficiently than she could. “Can we please just stop for a minute and calm down?” 

“Give me the reins.” 

“No.” Thorin pulled Lily back behind him by said reins. 

“Fine.” Rowan turned on her heel and began walking, back in the direction they had come from, and Thorin’s mouth dropped open as he watched her marching away, her back ramrod straight and her fists balled at her sides. If the whole thing wasn't so incredibly ridiculous, he might have laughed: _She was planning on walking all the way back._

He dropped the reins and ran after her, and when he got in front, he forced her to stop. She had crossed her arms over her chest, and he could see that she was visibly upset. 

“Can you just listen to me for a moment?” He pleaded with her.

She dashed at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I don’t know what there is to talk about.” 

Thorin tentatively reached out to take one of her hands in his. “Your reaction to me telling you that. Don’t you think we should discuss that?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“It matters,” Thorin tugged her closer. “To me, it matters.” He pulled her so that she was in front of him, though she refused to meet his eyes, and instead, buried her face at his sternum. He looked down at her head with sadness as he wrapped his arms around her. “And I think it matters to you.” 

“I think you’ll always hurt me,” Rowan mumbled against him. 

“If I told you why I kissed her, you might be surprised.” 

“Please don’t say that again. I don’t want to hear it!” Rowan’s fingers tightened at his sides. 

“Okay, would you believe I did that..._thing._.. so that I could see if I could put some distance between whatever it was I feeling for you?” 

Rowan laughed derisively. “Oh, so you kissed her for my benefit? I guess I should be thanking you! That’s really rich, and you must think I’m really stupid!” She pulled from his grasp, and tried to move away, but Thorin jerked her back to him and held her. She struggled for a minute, but then started crying again, this time harder. 

“I don’t want to feel what I feel for you, because I don’t want to ruin you. You deserve so much better than someone like me. So, I thought if I could make a life with her, then you’d be allowed to move on and be happy. That I wouldn’t feel like I had to interfere. That I wouldn’t feel this pull to you that I do right now.” Thorin’s grip on her tightened, his hand cupping the back of her head. “Please, you have to believe me. As soon as it happened, I wanted to take it back. I was disgusted, by it, and her, but mostly by myself.” 

“You should be!” 

“Well, I am. More than you know.” Thorin continued holding her to him, letting her cry as he whispered words of apology. After some time, Rowan moved out of his grasp and pulled away from him. Her cheeks were red and tear-streaked, and he thought again about all the times he’d made her cry and he hated himself a little more. 

“I want to go home.” 

“Without talking about it?” Thorin moved in again, and this time, Rowan flinched away from him, and he withdrew. His shoulders slumped in defeat at seeing her retreat so far from him, both physically and mentally, and he knew much ground had been lost today. Damnit. 

“Okay,” Thorin reluctantly acquiesced. There was no more talking to be done today. “Let’s go home.” 

The ride back was traveled in complete silence, with Rowan never even looking in his direction. When they made it to the stables, Rowan slid off Lily before he could say anything, and then she was gone, leaving him stood there with both horses, an aching heart, and a massive amount of regret. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot this on the last chapter.
> 
> So, I basically ran out of WiFi at work (haha) and so I am now forced to just type away, and post when I get home. I could work, but I'd rather spend my free time typing this story up. 
> 
> I feel like we're finally headed in the right direction, but then this chapter happens and I dunno haha


	37. Chapter 37

That night, Rowan was more annoyed than she’d ever been, probably in her entire life. And not only was she annoyed, but she was sad. Anxious. Terribly sick to her stomach. 

And it all had to do with the thought of Thorin kissing that female. 

There was no use pretending anymore that it didn’t bother her, nor was there any reason to deny _why_ it bothered her so much: **She cared for Thorin.** _Deeply._ From the moment he’d admitted what had happened, she had realized, deep in her heart and soul, just how much she cared for him. And how much she wanted him for herself. His revelation had quite literally smacked her upside her head with such an inconvenient truth, and she didn’t know what to do with it now that she’d experienced and recognized it. Now that she’d finally accepted what she was feeling for the King Under the Mountain, she was entirely confused and completely overwhelmed. 

While she had no experience in romantic relationships, she was well aware that she’d behaved like a spoiled brat, with the way she’d shut down and refused to talk to him. Refused to let him explain. She knew that she’d overreacted, because quite honestly, Thorin didn’t owe her any explanation for anything he’d done, or who he’d been doing it with. They weren't in a relationship, and he didn't have to give her any kind of account of what he did, or with whom he did it. He could have kept it from her forever, and she’d be none the wiser. The fact that he felt inclined enough to give her any kind of explanation was something that she knew she should be grateful for, but instead, she’d thrown it in his face and shut him down. And, childishly, she knew it was her own disgust at imagining him kissing someone else that was causing all of these feelings inside her, and it was her own inability to handle that overwhelming jealousy that had led to this latest fallout between the two of them.

_If she didn’t care about him, the kiss wouldn’t have bothered her,_ she reasoned. Just the thought of him so close to someone else made her blood boil and stomach turn. It was jealousy. Pure, unadulterated, all-consuming jealousy. She’d first felt it, that sense of possessiveness the night that Bofur had told her about the lady from the Grey Mountains. It was part of the reason she’d imbibed so much and had gotten so carried away with Dazmir. That night was the first moment she realized the truth: She wanted him for her own, and no one else could have him. And she’d not have anyone else, as none would compare to him. Her brows drew together in a frown; Thorin had so much control over her, even now when she was all but free of him.

She wasn’t exactly sure when it had happened, this changing of her feelings towards the dwarf king, this softening, but it had happened. Like a smoldering fire that had been given a breath of air and caught on, it had spread, slowly, until now it threatened to consume her whole, and she was more shocked than anyone. _Was she insane?_ How could she have come to care for someone that had treated her so badly? How could she even contemplate wanting affection from an individual that she knew capable of causing so much hurt and pain and sadness? So many times in the past month she’d lain awake and imagined scenarios with him. Had feverish dreams about him that made her cheeks blush deep scarlet. She had foolishly tried to remind herself that those were dreams, and she had no control over them. But the affection she felt for him in her waking hours? _That went against everything she should feel._ She’d seen Thorin at his absolute worst, and for such a long time, she hated him for it. And even now, she had moments of resentment towards him, but she was beginning to understand that those moments were fueled –_ in part_ – by her wanting him despite his abuse of her. How had he come to have so much control over her, when she’d vowed to him- _and all_ \- that he never, ever would have any place in her life once she was free of him and this place? 

She gnawed on her fingernail. 

It galled her to think that he could command her in such a way, and she wished with all her might that it was untrue. But it was true, and he did have entirely too much control, although she wasn’t quite ready to admit any of those emotions to him. So now she was left with a huge conundrum: _go to him and apologize for her behavior, or let it set, and hopefully die off. _

She moved onto another fingernail, chewing furiously as she contemplated. 

She had suitors, whether she wanted to admit it or not. Dazmir, at first. Orimun. Others had come, and she was sure more would come, as she was the shiny new thing in Erebor. And dwarf women were scarce, so it was more of a need for affection on their part, that much she understood. But everyone of those dwarfs she subconsciously compared to Thorin, and all of them were found lacking. 

They were not dark enough. They were not strong enough. They were not this or that. None were enough because they weren’t Thorin. They didn’t terrify her like Thorin did. They didn’t excite her like he did. They didn’t set her heart to thumping like Thorin did. If they touched her, she imagined it would pale in comparison to even the imaginations she’d had about the dwarf king. None of them ever had a chance after Thorin. And some would say she was crazy for feeling so towards the king, and she might be inclined to agree with them on any given day. She had come to understand about herself that there were times that Thorin still scared her half-to-death, but the daring part of her –_ the part of her that had always been hidden and sheltered and perhaps stifled?_ –wanted to see what lay on the other side of that dwarf king’s ice-cold heart, and seemingly impenetrable exterior. She somehow knew if and when she got too close, that Thorin would burn her, that he would ruin her for all other men, or dwarfs, or anyone else that followed in his wake. If she stepped onto that path with him, she knew would never come from it. 

But she wanted to feel that heat. _Eru, how she wanted to know what it was like to be burned like that! _And she wanted to experience all of it with Thorin. She had never in her life been so aware of her body, and the myriad of reactions elicited from her, just by thinking about him! Just a look from him would send goosebumps in waves over her skin. Memories of his strong arms holding her, his muscled chest and vividly blue eyes...just the very thought of him was enough to set her heart palpitating wildly in her chest. 

She chewed on the last fingernail left on her right hand, and continued ordering what to do with herself. Her eyes landed on the forgotten bag of medicine for his headaches, and she had her excuse. 

She had to go to him. They needed to settle things, once and for all. 

* * *

Across the dwarven city of Erebor, the king was busy trying to murder a tree stump at the training grounds. Whack after whack, each angry bite of his blade against the battered tree drew a bit more bark, and cut deeper into the trunk. 

"I think you've killed it, laddie," Dwalin drawled as he came upon his king. Thorin gave him a cursory glance, then resumed murdering the tree. Dwalin stepped closer. 

"What's got you all riled up now?" 

"I did not ask for company," Thorin snapped. He used his free hand to shakily wipe the sweat off his face. The king's arms were trembling with effort, his body weak from his self-inflicted abuse, but he would not stop until he was entirely spent. He slammed the blade into the tree yet again, the force of it reverberating up his arm with a burning ache that made him grit his teeth. 

"Aye, you did not, but I don't care much." Dwalin crossed his arms over his sizable chest. "I hear you've gone for a ride with the witch." 

"And I don't give a shit about any gossip you might have heard. Leave me." With a near snarl on his face, Thorin slammed his sword so hard into the butchered tree trunk that the blade became stuck. Dwalin watched as the king swore at the offending blade and then at the tree, and finally used his boot to leverage enough strength to pull it free. "**Son of a** **bitch!**" Thorin hissed as he fell to his knees, the blade dropping on the grass next to his shaking form. 

"I don't think you've healed that arm yet, Thorin," Dwalin reminded, gently. He was concerned for his friend. "Have you eaten? Drank anything?" 

"I don't need a mother!" Thorin grumbled as he allowed himself to fall to his arse. He rested his arms over his drawn knees and pressed his forehead at his forearms as he mumbled, "Just please, for the love of Mahal, leave me be."

"I can't do that, Thorin." Dwalin kicked at the dirt at his boot. "I've followed you, and fought with you for far too long to leave you now." 

The king sat quietly, his breathing still labored but slowing as he came back to himself. 

"I worry about you, Thorin. I saw you with Halla. I saw what it did to you. What she did to you, even if you couldn't see it yourself." Dwalin explained. "And I don't want that for you, ever again. You were young then and things were much different than they are now. We are older, wiser, and have lived through so much that by any right should have killed us. And if you feel the witch...if Rowan...will make you happy, then I will stand by you. You deserve it, and I will support you as I've always done, and always will." 

Thorin sighed. "She will not have me." 

"She'd be a fool not to!" Dwalin scoffed at Thorin's mumbled reply. He frowned. "How do you know?" 

"Does it matter?" Thorin finally looked up, and Dwalin felt the weight of his friend's despair as if it were his own. The king gave a sad smile, and shook his head. "She will not have me." 

"She's an idiot!" Dwalin growled. "Where is she? I'll go and have a word with the wench myself!"

Thorin cracked a tired smile at his friend's righteous indignation, and waved a hand at him. "She's not done anything wrong, Dwalin. Calm down. It was I that made a mess of things." The king held his hand out, and Dwalin took it to pull him up. Thorin stood on shaky legs, but at least he was up. He clapped a hand on Dwalin's shoulder. 

"It was me that messed it up. Do not bother her, please." Thorin shook his head at himself. "And it will be up to me to make amends, and I certainly don't want you beating her door down. "T'would not be helpful in the slightest." 

Dwalin narrowed his eyes at his friend's words. 

"I mean it," Thorin continued. "Don't bother her, please." 

"Only because you say so," Dwalin reluctantly acquiesced. "But believe me, I have no problem confronting that witch."

Thorin chuckled as he leant down to claim his bruised sword. He fingered the chipped edge, and smirked as he cut his eyes at his friend. "If I remember correctly, that witch would've had you crawling around on all fours, had she touched you just a little bit longer. I'd think twice about confronting her, except it be from a great distance." 

"You're a bloody bastard, you know that?" Dwalin shook his head in disgust. "A right bastard, and I have no idea why I give two shits about you. No idea at all." 

Thorin laughed heartily, and Dwalin's scowl grew. 

"Come my friend! It's getting late, and I do think I've given my arm an excessive workout." Thorin flexed his wrist, trying to alleviate the stretch of still-healing tendons and underused muscles. Dwalin was still scowling as he and the king made their way back to the city.

As they finally stepped through the doors and back into the city under the mountain, the pair stopped to have a final word. 

"Do you need anything?" Dwalin eyed his friend.

"A warm bath and a nice bottle of ale would soothe me, but I fear I may just fall into bed just the way I am." Thorin smiled as he clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Thank you, Dwalin. For your friendship. It means more to me than you can ever know."

"You are my brother, Thorin. And my king." Dwalin rejoined as he clapped Thorin's shoulder in the same manner. 

"Good evening, Dwalin." Thorin smiled, and stepped back. "I'll see you at breakfast, aye?" 

"Good evening, Thorin." Dwalin nodded. "And aye, I'll see you on the morrow." 

With a final smile and nod, the king made his way up the stairs, and Dwalin watched him go. The two guards at the stair entrance followed their king, finally relieved from the station Dwalin had set them at earlier. The dwarf warrior's eyes remained on his king, ever watchful, ever alert for any danger, and he only relaxed when he was sure the king had made it up safely, flanked by the two guards. The news he'd come to deliver to Thorin could wait until breakfast: 

_Dazmir, that bastard, was gone, and no one knew where to, or how so. _

Dwalin adjusted his belt and cinched his gloves on his wrists. That bastard. If that dwarven trash had any sense about him, he would have taken his leave of Erebor and fled, to never, ever return. But something inside Dwalin was stirred up with unease. Something about the way certain dwarves were missing around Erebor was unsettling. How angry Korvath was when he and his daughter had left in such a flurry, without so much as a goodbye. That, combined with the whisperings of discontent - and the rumors he'd been hearing about the witch and the king- worried him, and he would not be able to fully rest - _or let Thorin out of his sight_ \- until that dwarven traitor was found and properly executed, his head cleaved from his body, once and for all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm back. Kinda. 
> 
> I hope this chapters brings some relief to you all. As for me, I am sitting here, high on two antibiotics (which are of the devil himself!!) and I stupidly just took my beta blocker for my thyroid issues, and now I'm having massive panicky feelings because why is my heart beating so slow omg....
> 
> So, I decided to pump out some chapters while I wait for my anxiety to pass. 
> 
> I hope you all had a great holiday, whatever you celebrate, and I hope we all have a great New Years! 
> 
> Anxious for your thoughts. I'm trying to get things going!!
> 
> (Just anxious in general right now, LMAO)
> 
> XoXoXo ~ Crazytxgradstudent


	38. Chapter 38

**I'd climb every mountain, and swim every ocean.**

**Just to be with you, and fix what I've broken...**

It was late that evening that Rowan finally summoned the courage to go to him. Under cover of night, she concelead her face with the hood on her cloak, and made her way up to the king’s royal wing. She was surprised…_sort of_… to see two guards at the bottom of the stairs that led up to Thorin’s room. When they barred her way, she pulled her hood back and gave a timid smile. 

“I’m sorry, I’m Rowan.” She produced the bag of herbs. “And I’ve come to bring these to the king.”

The dwarven sentinel stared back at her, his blue eyes behind his helmet icy cold with disinterest. Rowan tried a warmer smile, but was still met with silence. 

“Can I go up?” She looked between the two dwarves for any indication of understanding. Maybe they only spoke Khuzdul? _Or_, she fretted, _maybe Thorin was super angry with her, and had_ _banned her?_ She began wringing her hands together as she fiddled with the satchel of medicine. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. 

“Look, I can just go back.” She held the medicine out. “Can one of you give this to him? He’ll know what to do with it.” She again looked between the two dwarven guards, but got nothing in return. No offer to take the meds. No offer to allow her up. No indication that they even acknowled her at all. With a sigh, she turned around to leave, bag still clutched in her hand, and slammed right into a thickly walled chest. Rowan’s eyes traveled up, and her stomach dropped. 

_Dwalin. _

She stepped back and hugged herself. “I was only coming to bring medicine to the king.” 

Dwalin eyed her for a few moments, scrutinizing her, and then nodded over her to the dwarves behind her. “Let her pass.” 

At his words, Rowan’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and then clamped shut, and before she could speak, Dwalin was addressing her again in that same aggravated, annoyed tone that he always seemed to have with her. 

“Go, witch. And see that you treat my king fairly.” Dwalin stepped forward to peer down his nose at her. “Or you’ll answer to me.” 

At that insinuation, Rowan became annoyed, and lifted her chin up at him in challenge. “Careful, dwarf. I’d hate to slip and fall on you. To accidentally touch you. Didn't bode well for you last time, did it?” She knew she shouldn't taunt him so, but damn it, she couldn't help it. He frustrated her so badly!!

“Go.” One single word from the dwarf was all she got in response.

Without another word to Dwalin, Rowan turned around, and made her way through the middle of the guards, and went up. 

She didn’t see the smirk the dwarf warrior aimed at her back as she made her way up the stairs. Nor would she see - or understand - the surprising relief that same dwarf warrior felt at having a witch like her be in the king’s company…_at least for the time being. _

* * *

The door opened, and Thorin was stood there, his hair a mess and clothes even messier. It didn't detract from his handsomeness, and Rowan found herself quite tongue-tied at being in such close proximity to him again. 

“I came to bring these to you.” Awkwardly, Rowan held the bag up to Thorin. He looked at the bag, then at her, then back at the bag. 

“The medicine?” 

“Yes. You forgot it on my table.” Rowan swallowed and pushed the bag towards him. She lifted her chin. “For your headaches.” 

“I do not think it was the medicine alone that eased my headaches,” Thorin tilted his head at her and gave a small smile. “In fact, I think it was probably not the medicine at all.” He opened his door wider. “Did you want to come in?” 

Rowan blinked at him, her heart pounding rapidly as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth. _Did she want to come in?_ She was still so mad at him. So why was she even here in the first place? **Stupid girl**…she knew exactly why.

“No more arguing. I promise to be on my best behavior.” Thorin pressed a hand at his heart and dipped his chin. “You have my word.” 

“Okay,” Rowan agreed. She stepped across the threshold and into his room. “But just for a little bit.” She cut sharp eyes at him. “And just so we can talk and get it over with.” 

She looked around his quarters, shooting a surprised look at Thorin when she saw the room was still clean. The only thing out of sorts was his bed, which still looked like he’d just rolled out of this morning. An image of a disheveled Thorin sprang to mind, his chest bared and hair wild....She looked away from his bed, her cheeks reddening with heat that she hoped he'd not see. 

After closing the door, Thorin followed behind her at a respectable distance. 

“Do you want something to drink? I’ve a tray of cheese and fruit that someone brought up if you’re interested.” Thorin made his way over to the table to inspect what had been brought. Rowan followed and looked over the spread just as he had. 

“No chocolate, I see.” 

“I will ask Bombur tomorrow to make some cakes just for you,” Thorin vowed, earning a reluctant smile from Rowan. He took a deep breath. “Listen, I just walked in a bit ago, and fell asleep in my chair. And as you see, I am filthy. I need to bathe and change.” 

“Do you want me to go?” Rowan asked him, praying he’d say no. 

“No, I want you stay.” Thorin moved closer, trailing a hand on the table as he eyed her, his voice hopeful. “I think we have much to discuss. If you’re agreeable.” 

Hiding her relief at his answer, Rowan stiffly nodded. “I’ll stay. Go clean up.” She smiled a bit in his direction, and Thorin relaxed. 

“Very good.” He grabbed a change of clothes and some other things. “Please, help yourself to whatever you’d like. I’ll just be a moment.” 

Rowan did just that, choosing to stuff her anxiety down with some cheese and a little wine, doing whatever she could to calm her nerves. Just earlier, they’d been good, and then they fought, and she was sure that whatever happened tonight would inevitably lead to another fight. She wondered what it would be like to just have a normal conversation with him, with no pretense or expectations? To just talk to him, and him to her, and they not part with anger? As happy as she was to see him - _and she was!_ \- she was still very annoyed with him. The kiss still bothered her. She frowned, knowing that it was going to be a source of annoyance for a good long while until she figured herself -and him- out. She was still sat at the table when Thorin reappeared, his clothes clean and hair freshly washed. His smell greeted her before he approached, and she did her very best to appear unbothered by the sight of his shirt still clinging to him as it sopped up the water left on his skin. The buttons on his shirt were undone, exposing a patch of damp skin that was covered with dark hair and fierce tattoos. She popped another piece of cheese in her mouth and furiously chewed. 

“Did you eat?” He asked as he towel-dried his hair. 

“I did, thank you.” Rowan focused on the tray of food. 

“I’m surprised you came.” 

“I am too.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, and dared a look up at him. 

“You were quite angry with me earlier,” Thorin continued as he sat down across from her. Rowan would still not meet his eyes, and the king frowned. “And you appear to still be upset.”

“I am not upset!” Rowan looked up, her eyes flashing angrily. Thorin’s lips pressed as he gave her a look, and she sighed. “Okay. I swore I’d come here and be honest and get this over with.” 

“So, you are upset.” Thorin reached over and grabbed a slice of cheese and popped it in his mouth. His eyes were guarded, wary, as Rowan shot him a glare in return. 

“Will you let me finish?” 

Thorin nodded that he would. 

“I was…taken aback by your confession, Thorin,” Rowan began. “And not because you owe me one, or because I expect anything from you, but…” she fiddled with what was left of her fingernails as she looked down at her lap. She shrugged her shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t know why it bothered me. It just did.” 

She wanted to scream that she was jealous, but she didn’t dare admit that to him. 

“It angered me to see you with Dazmir, and enraged me to see that you’d gotten a courting gift from another dwarf,” Thorin quietly stated. 

“It did?” Rowan had looked up at him with wide, confused eyes. The king nodded. “Why?”

“If I told you, you’d laugh in my face.” 

“Try.” Rowan met his eyes in a quiet plea. “Please. I need to know.” 

“Because somewhere in my foolish heart and idiotic brain, I’d like to imagine you for my own.” Thorin answered her challenge head on. “And I know that is impossible, but it doesn’t diminish my desire for it.”

“You wish me for your own?” Rowan was whispering, barely believing her ears. Thorin nodded. 

“Aye.” 

Dumbfounded, Rowan sat there for a moment before she burst out in laughter. A hysterical fit of giggles at how stupid this whole thing was. Thorin wasn’t laughing, though, and settled with pouring himself some wine as he scowled. 

“I told you you’d laugh.” He took a long drink. “Forget I’ve said anything.” 

“I must be insane,” Rowan gave another huff of a laugh as she stood up and walked to the window. Thorin stood and followed her, his hands crossed over his chest as he waited for her to continue. “You took me from my home as a prisoner and locked me up in a cell. Accused me of terrible things. Then you stripped me naked, and beat me, mercilessly. So much so that I wanted to be dead, Thorin. I wished for death for myself. I wished that you would hit me so hard that I would never wake up. And I wished for your death, had plotted it in my mind so many times.” She turned around and saw that Thorin had bowed his head, and that his shoulders were tense. Her eyes flooded with tears “I wanted you dead. And when I had the chance, I failed.”

“I will never be able to atone for all of that," his words were barely heard, a gruff whisper full of regret. 

“I know.” Rowan answered him. “And a part of me still hates you for it, resents you for it. And I worry that I always will.” 

Thorin looked up at her, and she saw that his eyes appeared glossy with his own emotions. “But?” 

“But I cannot deny the draw I feel to you. Or the anger I felt when you told me about the kiss.” She wiped at her cheek and looked away. “Or how I stupidly look for you every morning just to catch a glimpse. How crazy must I be to think of you in that way, after all you’ve done to me?” 

Thorin stepped closer, but Rowan held up her hand to stop him and he halted. 

“Do you know how crazy I feel, Thorin? Do you even care?” She was snapping now. “Do you have any idea of how utterly stupid I feel to have any kind of affection for you? To have anything other than hatred? Of all people in Middle Earth –_men, dwarves, elves?_ — to have any kind of desire, and have it be for you? What a fool I am!” 

“Do you want to hit me?” Thorin bluntly asked her. “Would that make you feel better to take out your anger on me?” 

“Hit you? I want to kill you!” Rowan spat at him. “I hate you so much!

Thorin swallowed at the acid in her voice directed at him. “And I deserve that hatred. Indeed, I do.” 

“There is something wrong with me that I feel this way!” Rowan snapped again, but she knew her resolve was breaking. “Don’t you see?” Her voice had cracked, an indicator of how her emotions were taking over. She dropped her head, and furiously wiped at her eyes. 

Thorin moved in closer, again, and rested his hands at the back of her arms, near her elbows. Rowan went stiff, her body shaking as he stood so close, and Thorin wanted to remove himself from her and never bother her again, but he couldn’t. The knowledge that she felt something for him, even just a tiny bit, had given him more than enough hope on which to operate. If he had to show her over the span of a hundred years how he’d changed, he’d gladly bear that burden. 

Rowan stood stiff as a board, allowing Thorin to rub his hands up and down her upper arms until she softened with each shaky breath. After some time, she was defeated, and leaned forward to push her forehead into his chest, a painful, terrifying surrender. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as Thorin wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her, and hugged tightly. 

“I am sorry. For all of this.” He pressed his nose in her hair, hoping and praying that she wouldn’t reject him. That she would find it in her heart to forgive him, to give him the slightest chance. 

“I can’t take this risk with you,” Rowan sniffled brokenly. “I know you will hurt me. You always do.”

“You’re the one that said there was good in me,” Thorin’s voice was pained. “Do you still believe that?” 

Rowan could hear the hope in his question, his need for her to believe in him coated every word. It brought on a fresh set of tears that soaked the front of his shirt, and despite her misgivings, she found herself unstiffening further and placing her hands at his waist to clutch his shirt. She pressed closer but did not dare to hug him as she wanted to. The stubborn part of her, the part he’d hurt so badly and nearly destroyed, told her to not let him have her all. Not yet. 

“Rowan?”

“I need time. Lots of time.” She turned her head to the side but kept her cheek at his chest. She could hear his heart thumping rapidly against her ear. “And I need you to understand me.”

Thorin’s arms tightened around her. “All the time and understanding you need.” 

Her own heart palpitating in her chest, Rowan slowly slid her hands around his waist so that they rested on his broad back, her fingers reaching for each other, and then she was hugging him. Thorin’s arms tightened further, and she might have smiled through her tears when she heard him let out a huge, deep breath against the top of her head. They stood like that for who knows how long, melting into each other, and breathing each other in as they came to some kind of fragile truce. Eventually heartbeats slowed, and breathing regulated, and the fear was gone for the moment, and Rowan further relaxed against the person she never thought she’d be able to feel comfortable with. 

“No more kissing anyone, okay?” Her voice sounded so small when she finally spoke, her heart rate increasing as she awaited his answer.

“Absolutely not.” Thorin vowed as he squeezed her. “And no accepting jewelry from other dwarves?”

“I won’t.” Rowan squeezed back. 

Walls were slowly coming down, brick by brick by brick, as they stood there, holding each other….


	39. Chapter 39

Over an hour later, Thorin and Rowan were seated on the floor at the foot of his bed, the food spread out on one side, and a chess board in-between as they sat on the rug. After they’d settled things as much as they could for the time being, Thorin had convinced Rowan to stay longer and talk. To just talk, and to take the opportunity to begin anew by spending time with each other. No strings attached, no expectations, no nothing – just time together to see how it felt for both. They’d been steadfastly playing and eating, and Thorin was now getting a glimpse into just how competitive Rowan was when it came to games. 

“You are such a cheater, do you know that?” Thorin growled as he eyed the board and contemplated his next move. Rowan was surprisingly good at this, and he was very much annoyed at that fact. _He never lost a game of chess. **Ever. **_

“Or maybe you’re just not very good at chess,” Rowan quipped, earning another annoyed growl from the king. He reached over, placed his finger on a pawn, and then thought better. He started to lift his hand away when Rowan spoke. 

“I think if you touch it, you have to move it. Isn’t that the rule?” She innocently blinked at him. 

Thorin’s scowl deepened. “Rules are different everywhere, I see.” Aggravated, he moved the pawn, only to miss the opening he’d given Rowan to jump that one and then another of his pawns. Two more of his pieces left the board. Damnit. 

Rowan tapped a finger at her lips, reading the board before making another move.

Thorin watched her from under hooded eyes. Her saucy attitude, and the way she was pressing her finger at her lower lip, trailing the tip over her softness, was entirely too distracting for him. He frowned, trying to focus after she'd made her move, and rashly moved one of his pieces before he thought better of it. Rowan moved her knight into a position he’d not had the foresight to see. Double damn. 

“Checkmate.” She tried to hide the smile, really, she did, but in the end, her glee of victory won out and a huge smile broke out at the king’s demise. Thorin scowled, knowing it was all over. Any move he made now would only end in his defeat. Sullenly, he pushed his piece forward and shook his head as Rowan finished him off. 

“I win.” She reached over and grabbed a slice of an apple and munched on it rather happily, and stared back at him. 

“This brings you immense pleasure, I can tell.” 

“Beating you? Absolutely.” Rowan smiled around a mouthful of apple. 

“Perhaps I let you win?” Thorin tried, and now it was Rowan’s turn to stare in annoyance at him. 

“You did not!”

“No, I didn’t,” Thorin confessed. “You beat me, fairly. And rather quickly.” 

Rowan eyed him warily. “Don’t ever let me win, Thorin.” 

“I would never do such a thing.” He pressed his hand at his heart, and gave her a playful wink. 

“I don’t think I believe you,” Rowan cut her eyes at him again, and Thorin laughed, and this time, his laughter brought a smile to Rowan’s face. He sobered as he stared back at her. 

“I wish to only ever see you smile again, Rowan. Just as you are doing now.” He sat up and reached for her hand, and she gave it to him so that he could lace his fingers with hers. When he pulled their joined hands up to his mouth and pressed a kiss at the back of her hand, Rowan’s mouth went dry, and heat bloomed in her belly. His eyes never left hers as he kissed her hand again. 

“Will you stay with me tonight?” 

“Thorin…” Rowan tried to pull her hand from him, but he held tight. 

“I’m not asking you for anything. Just your company.” He kissed her hand again. “Unless you don’t trust yourself to not ravish me once I fall asleep…” 

“Thorin!” Rowan gasped at his audacity, but found she couldn’t stay mad at him, least not when he was looking at her with such a playful glint in his blue eyes. He grinned as he held their joined hands against his mouth, his eyes crinkled at the corners, and looking so much lighter than she’d ever seen him. It was impossible to stay mad at him, and despite her nerves, she found herself smiling back at him.

_Another level of that wall came tumbling down…_

“What about rumors?” 

“Let them talk. Isn’t that what you said?” Thorin scooted closer to her. 

“But you’re the king, and I’m…” She looked down at her free hand and scratched at the fabric of her pants. 

“Perfect,” Thorin finished. Rowan looked up at him, and he nodded. “You are perfect for me. Don’t ever doubt that.” 

“I think we’re going too fast,” Rowan whispered, her eyes drawn to Thorin’s lips. He was scooting closer, and then his hand was cupping her cheek, and then he was trying to kiss her, and before she knew what she was doing, she was pushing him away with a hand at his shoulder before his lips ever met hers. Thorin dropped his head and took in a deep, steadying breath. 

“I’m sorry, I..I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he apologized. 

“I need time.” She reached down and placed her free hand over their still-joined ones and squeezed, hoping he’d understand her. As he'd promised. “Please. I’m sorry, but I just need more time.” 

“You are still afraid of me.” 

“Yes, sometimes I am,” Rowan admitted softly. She'd not missed the sadness in his tone, the regret, but she had to be honest with herself and him. “I try not to be, but sometimes it just comes, and I panic.” 

Thorin looked up, and Rowan saw pain in his eyes reflected back at her. Pain that hurt her heart, and she wished she could take it away, but it was there, and it begged to be acknowledged, no matter how she wished it otherwise. So much had happened between them; there was no way they could just go from that to this, and not have remnants of the past still haunt them both. 

"I'm sorry," Rowan felt herself tearing up with frustration, but Thorin quickly shook his head at her, and squeezed her hand with his. 

"You have nothing to be sorry for, little one." He squeezed harder. "It is I that should be apologizing. And I will, for as long as it takes for you to believe that I am truly sorry for what I did." 

Choked up, Rowan looked away, and used her free hand to dash away the wetness on her lashes. "Do you think we will get past this?" She looked back at him. "Ever?" 

Thorin nodded, and with a smile, tugged her hand up for another kiss. "Aye, I believe we will." Another kiss on the soft skin at the back of her hand. "Whatever it takes, and as long as it takes." 

"Promise?" Rowan gave a wobbly smile, and Thorin nodded. 

“I swear it to you. As long as it takes. And as for everything else, I will wait for you to ask me.” Thorin replied, just as softly. “We will go as slow or as fast as you need, and I promise I won’t pressure you to do anything you don’t want to do.” 

* * *

Some time later, Rowan had been convinced to remain with Thorin for the evening. Well, the convincing wasn't that hard, after all, and she'd eagerly climbed in his bed and made herself comfortable under the covers. It was only now that she lay in bed waiting for him to do _something_ that her nerves were finally getting the best of her.

Rowan lay on her side, tense as she’d ever been, and waited for Thorin to reach for her.

Minutes past, and his breath became even, and she became intensely aggravated. _Why wasn’t he hugging her?_ He wasn’t even trying. She chewed on her nail, and fretted, doing her best to be as still and as quiet as possible so he wouldn’t know how worked up she was getting. Maybe he really was going to wait for her to ask and wait for her to make the first move. She chewed faster. Did she really want to sleep in this bed, next to him, but remain so far apart? She could be sleeping in her own bed, dreaming of him, but now she had the real him, and she was going to let the opportunity pass, and for what? Her fear of him that she was supposedly trying to get over? How would she get over it if she never tried? She went back and forth, her heart rate soaring as she tried to talk herself into reaching for him. Doubts set in on her. What if he rejected her? What if he was already asleep and she was about to wake him up? What if he thought she was an idiot for being so ridiculously childish? What if he wanted her to touch him, and he really was just waiting on her to make the first move? She wanted to scream with frustration!

So, she did the next best thing, and faked it. 

She closed her eyes, pretended to be asleep, and rolled over, making an exaggerated sigh as she pressed herself against him. She snuggled into his arm and prayed that he believed that she was asleep and had just moved unknowingly towards the source of heat. Thorin lifted his arm, and she crawled under, and pressed her cheek at his chest as she settled. His arm rested atop her shoulder, and his hand was laid against her thigh. Feeling bolder and encouraged, she tentatively placed her hand at the center of his chest, and her cheek was tickled with the dusting of hair on his skin. He was shirtless, and she was in heaven. His scent surrounded her, his warmth, his smooth skin making her melt into him. As she closed her eyes, and snuggled in, she realized that she had never felt more at home than she did in this moment, resting against this wall of heat that continued to confuse her so very much. With a sweet sigh, she snuggled one last time, and then let herself relax enough to begin drifting off. 

Above her, Thorin was smiling when he closed his eyes, as another piece of that wall that separated them fell away. He took his own chance, and kissed the top of her head, taking comfort in the knowledge that the distance between them seemed to be lessening even more. 

As he finally succumbed to sleep, the thought was in his head that maybe, just maybe, she could come to love him. That it was possible for her to return some of his affection. And if it was even half the love that he felt for her, then he would die a happy dwarf...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little fluffy chapter here to ring in the New Year! Also, I don't know if chess was around in ME, but in my version, it is. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! You guys are the bestest!
> 
> XoXoXoXoXo ~ Crazytxgradstudent


	40. Chapter 40

"Rowan, sweetheart…”

Rowan opened her eyes, groggily, and when she focused, it was Thorin that came into view. His blue eyes were vivid, staring into hers as he leaned over her. It took her just a moment to realize that she was in his bed. With him. _Still. _

“I have to go to work.” He smiled at her. “I didn’t want to leave without telling you.” 

“Okay…” she mumbled, still sleepy as she tried to sit up. 

“You can stay, or go, whichever you’d like.” Thorin caressed her cheek. “I just didn’t want to leave without seeing your beautiful eyes once again.” 

Rowan smiled, blushing as she tried to hide her face from him, but he wouldn’t let her. So much had changed overnight, so much, and it was almost impossible to believe that this dwarf before her was the same one that had hurt her the way he had. She stubbornly pushed those annoying thoughts aside in favor of happier ones. 

“When will you be back?” 

“I’ve got to make a trip to Dale to visit with Bard,” Thorin sobered. “It’s been planned for some time, and I’ve been putting it off. Trade deals and negotiations that haven’t yet been settled.” He stood and resumed getting dressed. “And I must check on my guards that remain with the humans.” 

Rowan sat up and watched him as he threaded his belt through the loops and clasped his sword at his hip. Some dark part of her wondered if that belt was the same belt as before, and she immediately felt her stomach turn with disgust. She looked up, away from his waist, and focused on his face, trying to catch his eyes. Wanting her Thorin back so that she could _forget about that one_. He tugged on his gloves and turned back to her, missing the unease she'd just managed to mask. 

Rowan was sat there, in his bed, smiling at him, and looking so deliciously adorable that he wanted to crawl back in beside her. He walked back over to the bed and knelt on it with one knee so that he could lean over her slightly. Rowan pushed herself up and against him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she hugged him.

“Please be careful.” She whispered against his ear as she clung to him. 

“What’s this for? Are you worried about me?” Thorin tried to untangle so that he could see her eyes, but she held him close, and he allowed it, relishing her body pressed against his so tightly. He sat down on the bed and pulled her into his lap so that he could continue holding her for just a while longer. 

“Yes. Ever since that warg.” She tightened her grip on him. “Just please, be careful.”

“I will have many warriors with me. And Dale is hardly far away. Worry not, little one.” He rubbed her back soothingly. “What will you do whilst I’m gone?” 

_Worry about you_, was what she wanted to say, but offered an: “I’ll be busy,” instead.

Smiling, Thorin turned his head and pressed his lips at her forehead and gave a sweet kiss. His heart was so full in this moment, and he wanted to proclaim his feelings for her so that she and all the world would know, but he was so afraid of scaring her off that he deemed it best to wait. He squeezed her again in response to her clutching of him. Some moments passed, with her giving no indication that she was going to loose her grip on him. The king smiled into her hair. 

“They’re going to leave without me.” 

“Would that be so bad?” Rowan mumbled again, earning another smile from the king. 

“Quite possibly, since it’s a meeting between the Lord of Dale, and the king of Erebor. And I’m the king.” 

“Damn,” Rowan sighed, and Thorin’s smile grew further. 

“Will you be here or at home when I get back?” Thorin asked as he lifted himself from the bed and stood. 

“Where do you want me?” Rowan innocently asked, and Thorin nearly choked at all the endless possibilities that sprang to mind. 

_Where did he want her?_ By Mahal’s great beard, if she only knew all of the places he’d imagined her being. In his bed, in his bath, in that chair by the fireplace, sprawled across his lap and under his hands, and begging for sweet mercy…

“Thorin?” 

“Uhm…” he tugged at the collar of his shirt as it had grown incredibly tight around his neck and swallowed. “Wherever you’d like. I’ll find you.” 

* * *

Late that evening, Thorin arrived back at his quarters, only to find that Rowan was not there. The thought of her, and her alone, had been all he was looking forward to throughout this whole day, and to not find her waiting in his bed as he’d left her put him in a sour mood. His bath was carried out with anger and loads of frustration, his every thought focused on whether he should go to her, or take her absence for an answer. Deep down, he knew he couldn’t expect for her to sit around and wait for him, but he had hoped that she would have wanted to see him. And yes, the idiotic part of him had hoped she’d be here. Maybe even assumed she would be. He scowled anew. He couldn’t hide his disappointment, nor did he even try as he stomped around his room. He was grumpy, throwing things about his quarters as he stepped from the shower and searched for clothes. Bard was an asshole, and he was over the negotiations with that bastard lord of Dale, and-

“I just cleaned up your room, and you’re going to destroy it again, ‘eh?” 

Thorin stopped in his tracks, a smile of disbelief appearing as he heard her voice. He turned around and found her standing by the door. Her fingers twisted nervously in front of her tummy.

She shrugged with uncertainty. “I saw you come back, and I tried to wait to give you time to clean up.” Her eyes darted to his naked chest, and then back up to his face. “Should I come back? You’re still—”

“No, please do not leave,” Thorin interrupted her. he tugged the towel tighter around his waist to spare her further embarrassment. He’d not missed the blush that appeared on her cheeks at the sight of his nudity. He stepped closer, just barely. “Let me get dressed, aye?” 

“Okay,” Rowan mumbled as she looked down at her fingers. 

"I’ll be just a minute,” Thorin continued. He had some kind of irrational fear that if he took his eyes off of her, that if he looked away, she’d disappear, and his eyes remained on her the entire time he was searching for pants, and stayed on her until he’d stepped back into his bathroom. Two seconds later, he reappeared, wearing only his pants, his eyes landing on her again. He was towel drying his hair, reaching around to get as much water off as possible. He twisted his body in the wrong way, and let out a hiss as old scar tissue stretched uncomfortably around his still healing wounds. 

“What’s wrong?” Rowan went to him, her face set with concern. “Are you hurt again?” She began looking him over, reverting to her role as the doctor, and Thorin gave a taut smile. 

“Just skin objecting to being stretched in too many directions.” He threw the towel on the bed and reached for her hand. He pulled it up to his lips and planted a sweet kiss as her eyes meet his. “I have missed you, little one.” Another kiss. “So much.” 

Rowan’s breath caught, and she found words had deserted her as they seemed to do when Thorin spoke to her like that. His lips on her, the scratch of his beard against the soft skin at the back of her hand, the way his eyes were penetrating her. She swallowed, thickly, as heat unfurled in her belly, and she knew her cheeks were blooming with obvious color. 

She gave a nervous smile, knowing she couldn’t lie. “And I you.” 

At her words, the king beamed happily, and gave her hand another sweet kiss, before releasing it back into her possession. He made his way to his desk and shuffled some papers around, looking for something. 

“Forgive me, but I’ve got to get this trade deal finished, and sent back out. I’ll just be a moment. Signatures and all.” He looked up, giving Rowan a boyish smile, and she couldn’t help but smile back. Rowan sat down on a chair nearby, giving him time to do what he needed. 

He looked so much lighter than she ever remembered him being, and she liked this side of him. As he worked, she watched him from under her lashes, trying to not see him without his shirt on, but Eru was it hard. _So. Very. Hard._ His hair was drying slowly, the soft waves and curls uncharacteristically untamed and unbraided as they rested at his shoulders in unabashed disarray. Even so ‘_un-put together’,_ there was no denying who or what he was. The King Under the Mountain, the ruler of Erebor, and leader of the seven dwarf clans. Rowan shivered, seeing him in this new light that still shocked and scared her. He looked every bit the king, even without all his royal regalia. The hard set of his bearded jaw, his angular nose, and stern brow creased in concentration as he focused on his task. The soft curve of his lips as he worked. His skin was tanned, illuminated by the flickering of the flames in the fireplace, and Rowan wanted with all her soul to touch him, to slide her palms over him, to feel him. To touch him. To know him intimately, in ways she’d never known anyone before. She swallowed, finding her mouth had suddenly gone dry. Between last night, having slept in his arms, and now, being back in his room as if she belonged, she knew she was in way over her head. She wondered what Thorin would think if he knew how inept she was? She made a mental note to speak with Lofala –_or perhaps Halina if she was ever around_ – and inquire about things of that nature…

Her cheeks bloomed anew as Thorin’s eyes met hers, and she would swear on everything that he could read her dirty little mind. She lowered her gaze for a moment. 

“Let me get this to where it needs to go,” Thorin tossed a smile her way as he stood. He carried the paperwork to the door and handed it to a guard. They held a brief conversation, before he closed the door, and turned back to her. He was beaming now, and Rowan found it hard to not match his smile with her own. 

“Now, sweetness, I’m done, and can devote the evening to you.” He walked over and stood before her with that same sweet, boyish smile. His smile faded, though, as he pressed a hand at his temple and winced. 

“What is it?” Rowan asked, concerned again. 

“It’s these blasted headaches. They won’t give me a moment’s peace, I swear!” Thorin hissed as he pressed the heel of his palm against his temple, and then against his eyes. When he looked at her, Rowan could see how watery his eyes had become from one moment to the next, and she knew he was in pain. 

“Want me to rub your shoulders again?” Rowan meekly offered, feeling her cheeks flame anew. 

“I would be much obliged if you would,” Thorin grimaced as another throbbing set in. He slowly looked up to meet her eyes, and Rowan nodded. 

“Okay.” 

“You would touch me again? Like you did in your home?” Thorin gave another deep frown. 

“If that is what you ask of me, I will do it.” She refused to meet his eyes, and was now staring at the ground by her feet. It was ridiculous, really, how she could be rendered completely speechless at the thought of touching him as she’d done before. When just last night, they’d spent the night in each other’s arms…

“I’ll not demand you do it, Rowan. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. And you’re free to go from here if you’d rather not be with me.” The king titled his head. “I understand. And I want to give you that choice.” 

Rowan looked up for confirmation, meeting his eyes.

He nodded again and continued. “You may leave if you wish. You are not my prisoner, and I am not your master. You have the choice now to stay or go.” 

“I’ll do it.” She offered him a weak smile, which he returned with gratefulness. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Just sit before I talk myself out of it!” Rowan tried to tease but knew her voice sounded high-pitched. 

“Rowan, I—”

“Just sit, Thorin!” Rowan barked at him as she grabbed her bag of herbs and concoctions. 

“Okay, okay. Where do you want me? Chair?” Thorin asked. “Bed?” He arched a playful eyebrow, and his innuendo was not lost on Rowan. 

She glared at him, earning a laugh from the king. She nodded at his desk. “Chair is fine.” 

“Chair it is,” Thorin smirked as he walked back over to his desk and sat. He folded his arms and rested his head on them, just as he’d done at her home. “Ready when you are.” 

Rowan took up her spot behind him, and from her satchel, pulled out a small vial of oil that she’d prepared for an older dwarf with arthritis. She poured some of the oil out and rubbed it on her palms in preparation, slicking her skin with the slippery liquid. Thorin’s head lifted as he sniffed the air. 

“What is that?” 

“Turmeric and lavender oil. It helps with stiffness and old wounds. The lavender helps with sleep.” She chanced a look down at his broad back and her breath caught. He was so very big, all muscles and smooth skin and tattoos. Before she could stop, she’d reached out and began softly tracing the image of the anvil and seven stars with her fingertips. The tattoo spread from one shoulder to the other, with the image of a mountain woven into the background of his right shoulder, and bleeding onto his chest. She swallowed. 

“Those are the images of our forefather, Durin the Deathless. The seven stars are the seven dwarf clans set forth by Mahal himself.”

“I don’t know all the stories,” Rowan murmured as she continued to massage him. “Will you talk to me while I do this? Help me understand your culture?” 

Her desire for him to talk to her was a cover, nothing more. She needed him to keep talking to her, to distract her, to keep her linked to the present and out of her mind, lest she do something crazy and start touching him in some other way other than massage. She forced the shakiness from her hands, telling herself that she’d done this a hundred times before. _Thorin was just a_ _patient,_ she reminded, as she allowed her small hands to curve along the broad planes of his upper back and shoulders. 

With slow, measured strokes, she let her hands slide over his skin, marveling at how warm he felt under her palms. His body was hard as a rock, but somehow as smooth and soft as could be. He had scars and marks like anyone, but to say touching him was an unpleasant task would be a bald-faced lie. A part of her was worried that it was becoming entirely too easy to just be with him in this capacity, and somewhere, deep down, she knew she needed to tread with caution, but the other part of her – _the part of herself that she was still getting to know_ – didn’t care and wanted to throw caution to the wind and let whatever happen, just happen. 

Thorin shifted in his chair allowing himself to relax further, and began explaining how the dwarves came into being, and how they grew hardy and strong. He relayed the stories he’d been told as a dwarfling, of how this proud and noble family came to be. How he had come to be king of Erebor, after the loss of his father and grandfather. Thorin explained that his sister had been lost, and Rowan tucked that information away for a later time. He didn’t speak about Fili, though Rowan could hear the sadness in his voice when talking about the reclaiming of Erebor, and how difficult it had been with so much loss. How proud he was of Kili, and how happy he was for his nephew and the elf he loved, regardless of what tradition decreed. Thorin never mentioned his relationship with Halla, and Rowan did her best to not be annoyed a dwarf she’d never met. It was unfair to do so, she reminded herself, though she couldn’t prevent her fingers from digging a bit harder into the king’s shoulders and back with her mounting jealousy. She wanted to ask him about her. Ask what had made her so special, so great that Thorin had wanted to marry her. To pledge himself to her. What was it about Halla that still seemed to hurt Thorin’s heart to this very day? She wanted to ask so many things, but found she couldn’t give voice to her questions, and so she kept them inside her where they would continue to fester with uncertainty. Their relationship was so fragile, and she didn’t want to disrupt it in any way. At least not now when things were seeming to go so well between them. 

Rowan rubbed her hand over his back, smoothing the oil further into his skin, and the king sighed. “You will never understand how good that feels.” 

“You’re right, I won’t. The last person to ever rub my back was my mother.” Rowan forced down the lump of emotion in her throat, and forcefully kneaded Thorin’s muscles, working out her own frustrations as she worked his muscles. Between his revelations, the things he’d left out, and her sadness at being reminded of her mother, Rowan was growing increasingly annoyed, and was now digging into the king’s shoulder’s almost painfully. After a few moments, Thorin sat up and turned around, capturing her hands with his. He frowned when he saw she was teary. 

“I am sorry about your family, Rowan. Truly.” He swallowed his own sadness. “I know all too well what it’s like to lose someone you love. It is a pain that never goes away. But it does get better, little one.” He pressed a tender kiss at the back of her hand. 

Rowan warred with herself. Was he talking about Halla, or his family? She wanted to scream in frustration, but instead bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to not yell and scream at him, to not interrogate him as she wanted to. To not demand answers. Here he was, trying to be nice and comfort her, and she was about to derail everything. She settled with as much honesty as she could muster. 

“I’m alone, Thorin. I’m happy in my little house, and I’m thankful to you for providing me with it, but at night, I get so sad. I’m not used to going to sleep alone and waking up alone. I’m not a dwarf, and I’m not really human. I guess. I don’t know. I have no one and I’m tired of being alone.” She dropped her head as the tears started falling, and before she knew what was happening, Thorin had clutched her behind her knees and pulled her onto his lap. At first, she struggled, but quickly relaxed as he murmured soft words of encouragement at her hair. 

“I am sorry, Rowan. Sorry for your loss, and for your pain. If I could take that away, I would.” 

At hearing the depth of emotion in his voice, Rowan turned in his arms to see his face, catching his eyes with her own. She stiffened a bit when his hands came up to smooth the hair back off her face, and his warm, rough hands cupped her cheeks. Tenderly, his thumbs traced over the apples of her cheeks, and wiped away any tear stains. And in that moment, between one breath and the next, something change between them. Call it a spark, call it an ember that finally caught, but something changed. 

“Thorin?” Her eyes searched his as her heart palpitated wildly in her chest. 

“I would like to kiss you right now.” The king’s voice had grown deep and gravely, a low rumble that barely passed his lips. He looked down at her lips, then back up to Rowan’s eyes. “Would you allow me?” 

“You are asking my permission?” 

“You aren’t my prisoner, sweet one. And I am not that despicable that I would take a woman unwilling, no matter how low your opinion of me is.” 

“I’ve never been kissed,” Rowan breathed out, completely stuck on the fact that he wanted to kiss her. Her body was on fire. Her breasts were aching, her skin tingling in anticipation. There was an uncomfortable wetness in her groin, a throbbing ache building between her legs, and it took everything in her to not squirm on Thorin’s lap to try and find some relief. He wanted to kiss her. And Eru help her, but she wanted him to. She felt the beginnings of a smile lift the corner of her lips, and she subconsciously leaned forward to offer herself to him. 

“You do me the honor of allowing me to be the first?” The dwarf king gave her what could only be described as an adorable half-smile, and Rowan shyly nodded. Thorin tilted her closer, his face coming closer to hers, and whispered in the space between their lips- “I’m going to touch you now.” 

And then he did. 

Thorin gently pressed his lips at Rowan’s, bestowing upon her the sweetest kiss that had ever been. His hands were gentle at her cheeks, his thumbs caressing the spot near her eyes as he held her to him. Rowan clutched at his forearms; her senses overwhelmed by him. His tongue traced the seam of her mouth, and she opened, just barely to him. Thorin teased her with his lips, lightly nipping and suckling, alternating between the two as he caressed her lips with his own. Rowan sighed into his mouth, her fingers tangling his hair in the most delightfully painful way before giving up to claw at his shoulders. Her delicate tongue met his, the pair of them tangling as they explored the wet heat of each other’s mouths. He tilted his head a bit, giving himself the opportunity to nibble a bit more on her lips and then her jaw, and finally up along the shell of her ear. Rowan shivered in his arms, and gave another soft whimper of pleasure that shot straight to his core. 

Thorin pulled back, seeing Rowan through an entirely set of new eyes, and he smiled. That was what a first kiss was supposed to feel like, and Mahal help him, but he had never experienced anything like it. Ever, and not with anyone. Rowan was trembling, looking up at him with dazed eyes of her own, her pupils blown wide, and those soft, pink lips of hers set in the sweetest of pouts. Mesmerized by her lips, Thorin traced his thumb over the plumpness of the bottom one, drawing another shiver from her body. He met her eyes again. 

“Well?” he tentatively asked. 

“Do it again,” Rowan breathed out as she pressed closer, wriggling on his lap. Before Thorin could react, she’d grasped his cheeks with her hands and had pulled him down for a hard kiss, her teeth smacking against his, and he tasted the metallic sting of blood. Thorin pulled back with a chuckle, licking at his lower lip that she’d cut. Rowan frowned up at him. 

“Sweetness,” he softly traced his thumb over her lip again. “I will spend all day kissing you if you allow it, but please, don’t damage those beautiful lips of yours on my account.” He leaned down and pressed another peck at her mouth, soft and soothing, and oh so gentle. 

“I told you I’ve never kissed anyone before,” Rowan closed her eyes as she allowed him to nuzzle her mouth and cheek and nose as he’d done before. She couldn’t get enough of him, of his scent, and his warmth,_ and Eru help her,_ these feelings he was stirring up inside her just begged to be recognized and attended to. There was a burning ache between her thighs, a throbbing that was getting worse by the minute, and she could not put it from her mind. She squirmed again, feeling restless and needing some kind of relief…_the kind that she knew only he could offer. _

“We’ll have plenty of time to practice,” Thorin murmured. He pulled her tighter against him, only to groan when her bottom landed on his steadily growing erection. His eyes flew open wide, catching Rowan’s confused stare, and his cheeks heated with embarrassment at being found out. She looked down at her lap, and then back up to Thorin, as recognition dawned. 

“Is that…?” Her cheeks blossomed with color, and Thorin gave a sheepish smile as he moved her to the side, seating her on his thigh. 

“I can’t seem to control myself around you.” He dropped his head at her shoulder and took in a ragged breath. Rowan cupped the back of his head and held him to her as she scratched at his scalp.

“What if I didn’t want you to control yourself around me?” Rowan was playing with fire, with the very devil himself, but she didn’t care. She knew the mechanics of sex, knew how babies were made, and from where they came. But aside from that, she didn’t know much else. And right now, she wanted Thorin to teach her everything. She squirmed on his lap, restless and needy. Under her, the king was taut with tension. 

Thorin was dying. Torn between what was right, and what he wanted to do. He tried not to bruise her hips where he gripped her, a last ditch effort to retain his bearings. Her words, whispered at his ear were a siren song that he was finding almost impossible to resist, but he knew he must try. If he gave into her, things would spiral out of control; Someone had to be level-headed here, and he was assuming it would have to be him. Of all the damnable places to be.

When Rowan’s soft lips found the shell of his ear, he felt his heart twitch in his chest. When she tentatively licked at him, and took the soft skin of his lobe in-between her teeth, he was sure his heart would stop. Summoning all of his integrity, he knew he had to behave, and therefore, he knew had to stop this. For both of their sakes, he had to stop this already! He stiffened, groaning against her neck, his hands tightening around her back as he held her tight. He was shaking, the color in his hands fading as he tried to maintain his grip on her and on what was left of his sanity. 

“This is much too soon, sweetheart. We have only just—”

His words were cut off when Rowan pushed herself up so that she could capture his lips again with hers, and this time, she was softer, though no less insistent, and he absolutely melted under her. She was so sweet, so pure, and tasted of sweet, red wine and cinnamon, and he simply could not get enough of her. His mouth enveloped hers as he took control, and he found himself clutching at her back as he held her to him as close as he could. Rowan did to him as he had done to her, nibbling on his lower lip, then his upper lip, before sliding her tongue in to mingle with his. Thorin let out a groan that she swallowed this time, and when she softly sucked on his tongue and pulled back it into her mouth, he feared he might have come undone in his pants. He pulled back, shaking as he held her back from him. His eyes were wild, the pupils blown as he stared at her. She was panting, her lips pink and wet, looking so delectable he could have eaten her whole. The things he’d love to do to that pretty little mouth…_Mahal help him!_

“We have to…”—he took a ragged breath— “take it…” – and then another breath – “slowly.” He ran a hand over his face and tried to regain some semblance of control. He was shaking like a bloody leaf. “Please.”

“But why?” She pouted again, trying to move closer, unaware of the danger she was courting. He felt like an inexperienced dwarfling. 

“Because you are not ready for this. With me.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” She looked down at her hands, appearing dejected. “It’s because I’m inexperienced, isn’t it?” 

“Rowan, sweetheart, no!” Thorin grabbed her hand and brought it up to his mouth, urging her to look at him. Her eyes met his, though her gaze rested on his lips, and on the hand that held hers. Rowan watched, focused solely on the way his lips slowly traced over her palm and kissed every finger with such sweet tenderness. 

“I love that you have never been touched before,” he kissed her hand again. “But I want us to take our time. For you to feel comfortable. I would not have you regret anything we may or may not do.” He hugged her against his chest, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight as he tried to calm them both down. 

They sat for some time - _her reluctantly, and Thorin uncomfortably_ \- until Rowan could no longer take it. She was burning up from the inside out, and it was high-time she did something about it. She tried to remember what she’d seen that one night she’d sneaked into the city and caught the farmer with that woman ‘who was not his wife’. Her body hummed with arousal as she recalled the sight of the woman on the man’s lap, just as she was now, the memory of them rolling against each other bringing another heavy rush of heat to her cheeks. 

“How am I supposed to go back to bed after this, Thorin?” Rowan recognized she was whining. And she didn’t even care anymore. She needed him on some basic, carnal level, and she was not ready to go back to her house. Not at all. Not until she got some relief. Unable to stop herself, she shifted on his lap just as the lady in her memory did, and squeezed her thighs, trying to soothe the burning ache. She bit her lower lip, and her eyes closed.

“Please….” She whispered. “I don’t know what I need, but I need…” 

_**More.** She needed so much more. _

Without asking or warning, Rowan lifted herself on him, and straddled him, forcing her core against him, and she closed her eyes at the feeling of him pressed against the spot between her legs. She could feel his hardness there, _could feel him against her..._

When she began rubbing herself against him, Thorin felt all breath leave his body at the feeling of her writhing over him, at the sight of this beautiful creature undulating on top of him so wantonly. He was going to lose his bloody mind. He was sure of it. 

“Thorin, please,” Rowan whimpered again, biting forcefully on her lower lip in need, her slim thighs hugging his hips as she bore down on him. When her hands innocently traveled up his bare chest and accidentally raked over his pebbled nipples on her way to his neck, he hissed, loudly, and knew he was lost. 

Thorin couldn’t contain it any longer. He had to touch her. He simply could not resist her any longer, and he would worry with consequences later. Damn them all. 

“I will help you, Rowan,” he murmured against her neck, before turning his head so that he could meet her eyes. Rowan stared back at him, her cheeks pink with desire, and mouth parted in a soft “o” of wonder. With a soft smile, Thorin nodded at her. “Trust me, little one. I’ll give you that relief which you seek.” His hand released hers, and slid down the front of her body, slowly, inch by inch, until he’d found that warmth between her thighs. 

Now it was Rowan who was trembling life a leaf in the wind, her entire body strung tight with unresolved tension as he finally touched her. She wanted to scream with happiness and equal parts shock, for she had never been touched by anyone like this. No one had ever known her so intimately, and perhaps even more intimately than she knew herself. She tightened her legs subconsciously at the intrusion, her head spinning with indecisiveness and her nerves frayed as he caressed her. 

“Trust me, sweetness.” He gently forced his hand between her thighs, and Rowan rewarded him with a cry of submission. Over her clothing, he pressed his palm at her mound, and began applying slight pressure. 

Rowan had instinctively squeezed her thighs when she felt his hand wander down, but her need for satiety won out, and she relaxed, opening her legs just enough to allow him access. Thorin’s warm, heavy hand rested against her most private of spots, and she nearly screamed when his fingers slid so far under her so as to nearly cup her bottom from front to back. No one, besides her own inexperienced self, had ever touched her there, and she was completely unprepared for the sensations his touch elicited. She felt molten heat bloom in her belly, and all propriety went out the window as she shamelessly moved against his heavy palm. His thumb rested at the spot she wanted him most, and she nearly sobbed as she felt him apply some pressure to that bundle of nerves at her core. Delirious with desire, somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered what it would feel like if she had no clothes on, with nothing to keep his hands and fingers from the bareness of her body, and another gush of wetness pooled between her thighs as she squirmed restlessly, her thoughts coupled with the fantasy in her head. 

Thorin pressed harder, sensing her need. He used his thumb to rub back and forth in the area that he hoped would bring her the most pleasure, though inwardly he cursed the day anyone had ever made pants. How he wished he could feel her body against his, bare and naked, to feel that wetness that he knew was there. He choked back a strangled groan as he felt the heat against the palm of his hand and pressed his lips against the base of her throat, willing himself to settle down. To focus on her. This was about her, not him, he reminded himself. All about her, and he was hell-bent on making the chance she took on him worth it for her. At least for tonight. 

“Thorin!” Rowan whimpered as she grabbed his hand – not to push him away, but to pull him closer. The king gritted his teeth as Rowan began rocking against him, rubbing herself against his hand as she wantonly sought out her release. Rhythmically she moved, rocking herself back and forth, each short dig of her hips bringing her one step closer to the end of everything and nothing. One breath closer, one heartbeat closer to relief. 

“That’s it sweetheart,” he cooed against her neck. He bit at her skin, drawing a soft gasp from her as he licked to soothe the mark he’d made. Up and down her neck he went, biting and licking and sucking, all the while his hand and fingers worked at her core to bring her to orgasm. 

_“Just let go.”_ He applied firmer pressure to her, rubbing in a slight circular pattern until he felt her legs begin shaking around him, and he knew she was so very close. She lowered her head to his neck, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and rocked harder, until finally, he heard her cry out in sweet relief as she finally gave in to the sensations and let her body overwhelm her. 

Feeling the buildup of pleasure, Rowan pressed herself against him, her entire body shaking as her orgasm finally rolled over her in wave after delicious wave. She openly sobbed at his neck, babbling incoherent words as she continued rolling her hips against his hand, until finally, she was spent, and could move no more. She went limp in his arms, her sweaty forehead pressed against his equally-sweaty neck, and tried to catch her breath. Her fingers were tangled in the hair at the nape of Thorin’s neck, and she lazily played with the strands. 

Thorin pressed a kiss at her forehead. “Feeling better?” 

“Oh my goodness, Thorin!” Rowan breathed out against his neck in wonder. “So much better.” 

He heard the smile, the wonder in her voice, and it made his heart soar in his chest at how happy she sounded. Never in one hundred million years did he think he could be the one to provide that level of happiness to her. That he could bring her to pleasure simply by something so simple. Rowan wriggled on his lap, looking for a better seat, and inadvertently rubbed herself against his rock-hard erection. Thorin let out a painful grunt. 

“I’m sorry!” She apologized and looked up at him with worried eyes. Thorin forced a smile between clenched teeth. 

“Not your fault.” 

“Should I do something?” She asked, so innocently he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

_Should she do something??_ He could think of a million things she could do, and not a one of them would be appropriate at this stage in their relationship…

“I think it best get you off my lap, or else we’ll do something neither of us is prepared for now.” Thorin helped her stand, and Rowan did so, albeit on shaky legs. She remained clutching his shoulder. He looked up at her. “Are you alright?” 

“My legs are a little wobbly is all,” Rowan blushed, earning a smug smile from Thorin. 

The king took a few deep breaths, and calmed himself as much as possible, before he too stood. He smiled down at Rowan, and she smiled up at him, before unexpectedly pushing herself into his chest and into his arms. Her arms came around his waist as she hugged him, and he draped his over her shoulders, and rested his chin atop her head. 

“What’s this for?” Thorin asked as he kissed the top of her head. 

“I can’t look at you. I’m so embarrassed right now,” came her muffled reply. Thorin hugged her tight against his chest, squeezing her. 

“You have nothing to be ashamed of with me.” He pulled back. “Please look at me, Rowan.” 

Rowan did so, though her eyes were still a little dazed, and her cheeks were still high with color. 

“Don’t ever be afraid to be yourself around me.” He traced her jaw with his thumb. “I only want the real you from here on out.”

“I have bad moods,” Rowan warned. 

“As do I,” Thorin returned. He saw as Rowan’s gaze darkened for a moment, and then she pressed herself against his sternum again. He could only assume that she was remembering their earlier meetings, and he would be right in his assumption. Her thoughts had turned back to the sight of him, eyes wide with rage, whites visible as he beat her with his belt. She began shaking again as that old familiar fear took hold, and she struggled to remain present, to not go back to the floor of that cell as he destroyed her with his rage. Her fingers twisted at his skin as she clutched at him. 

“I can’t believe I’m stood here, hugging you after all of what happened. You are so different from him, Thorin.” Rowan was whispering again. “How can you be him, and he be you?” 

“We are unfortunately one and the same, sweet Rowan.” Thorin tightened his grip on her. “All I can do is vow to never let that side of me out, ever again.” His hatred at himself resurfaced. 

“But can you promise that you’ll never get mad like that again?” Rowan hugged tighter, afraid that the dwarf before her would disappear and the hateful one would come back. P_lease stay with me, please stay with me,_ she begged him, silently, over, and over and over again. 

“No, I can’t promise that,” Thorin admitted. “But I can promise you I’ll give it my best try.” 

“So, the burden is on me, then? To take this chance, and hope for the best.” She released her grip on him, only slightly. She pressed up on her tiptoes, and gave him a soft kiss at his cheek, before fully releasing him. “I’m going back to my house, Thorin. I’m sorry.” 

He let her go without a fuss, knowing she needed to do what was best for her, and knowing that he needed to allow her the time in which to do so. As he watched her exit his room, he couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of overwhelming sadness at being alone, and it took everything in him to not go after her. To not seek her out and try to apologize, yet again.

But he didn't go after, for he knew she wouldn't want him to. 

Resigned to his fate, he slumped down in his chair in defeat, letting her go, and experiencing once more the ramifications of his actions. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! The holidays happened, and then Claes Bang and Dracula happened, but here we are. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this little chapter! I for one am so happy with the little progress made between these two, though I don't think they are anywhere near the end yet!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and please drop me a line to let me know what you think!
> 
> XoXoXoXo ~ Crazytxgradstudent


	41. Chapter 41

Rowan made her way back down the winding stairs and through the vast corridors, her mood growing increasingly sour by the second. _Why was she so stupid?_ She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself as she stomped on, knowing her pride would not let her return to him. It was so stupid, really, because that was all she wanted – **to go back to him! **She remained aggravated with herself and with him, yet forced one foot in front of other, willing herself to be strong in her convictions. She just needed some time to think on things. To sort through things. To be intentional, and not just reacting due to her confused feelings around Thorin Oakenshield. 

Her head was still fuzzy, and her emotions were scattered from all that had transpired between her and the king, and she knew she needed to have some time to go and process things in her own way. She couldn’t think around Thorin, that much was evident. Not properly, anyway. Her cheeks heated as she remembered how shameless she had been, and she wondered what Thorin must think of her to behave in such a way? She passed through the kitchen area, swiping a handful of nuts before anyone saw her, and continued on her way to communes. She turned the last corner that led to her house and slammed right into a familiar body. 

“Rowan!”

Catching her breath, Rowan smiled at her friend, and gave her a quick hug. “Halina!! Where have you been?” She pulled back to look the dwarf over. “I have been worried sick about you!”

“Oh, I’m fine! Just been busy taking care of my family, is all. But tell me, where are you coming from?” Halina queried as she drew Rowan’s arm to her side. Rowan cast a sullen look over her shoulder. 

“I was helping Thorin.” 

“Ahh, so it’s true, then,” Halina pulled away slightly, and gave an odd look. Rowan gave her own odd look in return. 

“What’s true?”

“The rumors of you and the king,” Halina answered. “I did not believe them, not with the way he treated you when you were kidnapped, but it appears I may have been wrong.” The dwarf’s eyes narrowed just imperceptibly. “Tell me, Rowan, did he tell you about my sister? The truth about my family?” 

Rowan swallowed, unease furling in her belly. There was no mistaking the ice in her friend’s tone, and it confused her greatly. She grabbed Halina’s arm and dragged her to the front of her small house, and opened the door so that they could enter. Once inside, Rowan quickly lit a candle, illuminating the room. Halina was still stood by the door, her eyes glinting in the light from the small candle.

The dwarf crossed her arms over her chest. “Did he tell you the truth?” 

“He did, Halina, and I’m so sorry about your sister.” Rowan ducked her head, feeling mighty ashamed at having done what she’d done earlier with the king. 

“He told you some, but not all, I’m going to assume. What exactly did he say to you?” Halina stepped forward. “Did you know that Lord Korvath is mine and Halla’s father?” 

Rowan’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with shock. “What?”

“Yes, it’s true. He fathered us with a human woman he met on one of his journeys to the Blue Mountains.” Halina sat down at Rowan’s table, her head bowed, voice somber with memory. “My dear, sweet mother, Hallath. She always talked of our father, for she loved him very much. Even though he didn’t deserve her love, nor did he return it. Sure, he made sure we had food and shelter, and we weren’t exactly poor, but we never benefited from his status.”

“Did he know? Your father?” Rowan couldn’t help but ask. The question caused Halina’s head to snap up, and eyes to flash with renewed anger.

“Of course he knew. _He knew, Rowan._ And he chose to ignore it. Maybe he thought we’d die off,” Halina huffed out a humorless laugh as she looked at her fingernails. “We always knew he was our father, and I know Halla told Thorin, but it seemed that even a partially-noble bloodline was not enough to sway the prince.” 

Rowan’s head was spinning. Halla and Halina were Korvath’s children? “And Lady Krovithra?” 

“Our half-sister,” Halina smiled bitterly. “Fathered with my sire's true wife, Dorath.”

Rowan, saddened, went to Halina, and knelt beside her. She took the dwarf’s hands in hers to offer comfort, grateful she had on her gloves. Halina’s sorrow was too much to bear right now, she was sure of it. 

The dwarf gave a sad smile. “Halla was dark, just like Krovithra. Our mother, Hallath, was just as dark. Black hair, deep, brown eyes. Thin and beautiful, just like my sister. It was why seeing Krovithra shocked me the way it did, for our father, Korvath, he is very light, like me.” Halina shrugged. “His wife, the lady Dorath, she was a great beauty, or so I'd heard. And also dark, just like her daughter. Perhaps that is my father’s type, dark and beautiful. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t care for me as much as he did them…”

Rowan sat still, her heart aching for her friend. Halina stiffened and withdrew her hand from Rowan’s grasp. 

“Do not pity me, Rowan. I would expect no less from him. My father tried to move my half-sister in, and has pretended not to notice me for the last time. Halla is gone. And now, my sweet mother has gone to join my sister, and I am all alone.” The dwarf's chin lifted. "But do not pity me." 

“Your mother died?” Rowan’s heart clenched. “Oh Halina, I’m so sorry!”

Halina’s face hardened into a mask of icy rage. “Don’t be. My father’s schemes to move Krovithra in were more than she could take, apparently. But he doesn’t care. He never has, nor will he ever.” 

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say, or what to think, or…” 

“What is left to say?” Halina’s eyes flashed. “My father is no different from any other male. Always taking. Always destroying. Stealing what he wants from females, and leaving only destruction in his wake.” 

Not knowing what to do or say, Rowan could only nod, unsure and entirely uncomfortable. None of it made sense. And some small part of her was finding it so hard to believe that Thorin would behave in this way, regardless of her past dealings with him. It just seemed…implausible, while another part of her loudly warned that he was entirely capable of being such a monster. She’d seen him at his worst behavior. _But how to know what was true or not? _

“Why did you not kill him, Rowan?” Halina quietly continued. “The knife was left there, and not by accident, you see.” The dwarf’s piercing gaze bore into Rowan’s eyes. “And you did not take the opportunity. Why? After all he did to you, how could you let him live?” 

As if she’d been slapped, Rowan rocked back on her heels in shock. She gathered herself and stood, needing to get away Halina. As she stood at her small sink, her head was spinning anew. Was Halina insinuating murder? Was she saying she’d planted that knife on the tray of food, and left it with Rowan, hoping she’d murder the king? Rowan grabbed a small cup and filled it with water, needing something to distract her from all the madness and confusion. Her hands were shaking as she sipped, her entire body trembling. She stiffened when she felt Halina come up behind her.

“He will cast you aside, just as he did my sister, and now, just as he has done with Krovithra,” the dwarf whispered in Rowan’s ear, her words silky-smooth. “Ask about Krovithra. Inquire about her. And about her father. They left Erebor a week ago, and have yet to be heard from. The family in the Grey Mountains have sent out scouts to search for them, and Thorin Oakenshield goes on about his life as if everything was fine. Just like he did with my sister. Do you honestly think the king had nothing to do with this?” 

“You’re lying. Thorin wouldn’t do something like that,” Rowan weakly protested. It was tenuous at best, her trust in him, because she’d seen his capabilities. The lengths he would go to get what he wanted, to get what he felt he was owed. She took another drink of water, feeling so disgusted inside that she wanted to vomit. How could she determine what was true or not? 

Halina huffed out a laugh. “He wouldn’t? Really? Are you sure about that?” 

Rowan turned around in frustrated anger. “What do you want, Halina? What do you want me to say?” 

Halina's eyes blazed with anger for a moment, and then it was gone. She gave a tight smile. “I want you to see what he is, Rowan. To see past his handsome exterior, and realize that he is nothing more than a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He will destroy you, just as he did my family.” Halina stepped closer. “He already destroyed your family, or have you forgotten how he brought that dragon down upon these lands? You and I, are we not so similar in our losses due to the king’s greed? Do we not have equal reasons to hate him?” 

“Does Thorin know about Lord Korvath being your father? About him being Halla's father?” Rowan asked, her grip on the cup in her hands tightening as she waited. She remembered Thorin's words about Halla being a miner's daughter. She needed to clarify what Halina had told her earlier. None of this made sense. 

“I already told you he did. My sister told him. He is the king, Rowan. He has everything at his disposal. Are you so naïve to think that he doesn’t know all the comings and goings in this mountain and in the lands beyond? He knew._ He knows._” Halina gave another penetrating stare. “Have you slept with him yet?”

Rowan’s head snapped up, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Halina lips twisted up into a sneer. 

“Thought as much. Same as my sister. He toyed with her for months, stringing her along, playing with her emotions, testing the water, so to speak. And then, once she’d told him the truth, he abandoned her.” 

“Truth?” Rowan whispered. 

Halina giggled. “Oh, this is rich. So, he didn’t tell you…_everything. _In fact, he left out the best part, it seems."

“What truth, Halina? Tell me!” Rowan was practically screeching. 

“That Halla was carrying his child, of course. It’s why she wanted to get married so quickly, can’t you see?” Halina giggled again. “The heir to the throne of Erebor had sired a bastard child, out of wedlock. According to Thorin, King Thrain would never allow it. And so, he kept putting it off, pushing her aside, biding his time.” Halina’s voice dropped in anger as she spat. “He accused my dear sister of having an affair, of conceiving a child with someone else! When the simple truth was, he couldn’t stand the thought of owning up to his responsibilities and upsetting the royal house! And when the dragon came, he took his opportunity! To abandon my sister and his unwanted bastard to save his precious grandfather and that damned treasure!” 

“That can’t be true,” Rowan whispered as she sank down to the floor. Her legs refused to hold her, and she felt incredibly nauseous. “That’s not what he said, it can’t be…I can’t…” 

“Oh, but it is true! And now, he’s told you his version of truth, and I’ve told you the actual truth!” Halina spat again. “He stood to lose a lot by openly declaring my sister as his lover, and with his child, no less! My sister, the half-breed. His grandfather would have disowned him, and the child may have not been accepted, what with being a bastard! But, honestly, who had more to lose, Rowan? Who has lost more, my sister and me, or him? And he’s sought to destroy every bit of evidence relating to my sister, it seems. To change the story so that he is seen as a victim. Poor Thorin! How very clever of him. He is still such a coward.” Halina scrutinized the nails on her hand as she continued. “And you? You are nobody, Rowan. Not even a dwarf. You are even lower than my dear sister, who he not only impregnated, but cast aside as if she were nothing! Do you really think he will treat you any better? You, the outcasted witch? Once he gets his fill of you, you will be nothing more than another notch on his bedpost. You do see that, don’t you?” 

Rowan bit back tears, knowing that everything Halina was saying was the truth. She was a nobody, and she came from nothing. And it was painfully accurate: _she was not even a dwarf._ She was nothing. How could she have been so wrong about him? What kind of darkness must reside in someone that would allow them to behave so callously, so meanly? To be able to toss aside the mother of your child like that, what kind of person was able to do that with a clear conscience? _The one that had beaten her silly for a crime she didn't commit_, her mind reminded. Thorin was that kind of person, and he'd shown her that, over and over again. She'd seen how low Thorin could go, how dark he could be, and a part of her was not really surprised at all that Halina was saying. But Eru, she cared about him. In fact, she might even admit to caring about him too much, though now she would never admit that. And she'd naively believed that he cared about her in return. Was it all just a ruse on his part? How could she have ever imagined he’d come to care for her the way she cared about him? A few kisses, and games, and caresses, and like the naive idiot she was, she'd just fallen at his feet. How stupid she was. 

“He is a liar, Rowan. And his anger and deceit and treachery have no bounds. I wonder what he’d do with you, should you confront him?” Halina pressed. 

“I can’t do this, Halina….I need to be alone.” Rowan looked up, her eyes bleary. “Please leave me. Please.”

“You’ve fallen in love with him, haven’t you?” Halina sighed as she came closer. She tentatively reached out, and placed a hand at Rowan’s forearm. “I’m sorry. He’s very persuasive. It’s best that you leave now, make your own way away from here. Once he sets his mind on something, he won’t stop. And I’m telling you, he will destroy you when you are no longer useful.” Halina leaned closer. “He is incapable of love.”

Rowan sat numbly, her heart grown cold in her chest. 

Halina walked over to the door and opened it. “I have a place, Rowan, out past the old Lake-Town. It’s where I’ve been residing, just on the other side of the Mirkwood at the southern end. It borders the lake, and I imagine I’ll remain there for a good long while. It’s a peaceful place, and you’re welcome to come join me, should you like. I will be at my home until the end of the month, so please, make your decision before then. Afterwards, I may return to the Blue Mountains.” 

Rowan simply nodded, and waited in silence for Halina to leave. Once she was alone, she sank down on the floor, her back pressed against the wood of her shelves, and hugged her knees to her chest as she cried. Her mind was spinning, her thoughts all jumbled and confused and twisted as she tried to make sense of it all. 

How could she have been so wrong? How could she have not seen him for what he was? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man....
> 
> First off, I apologize for the delay. I got tied up with Claes Bang and Dracula. I do hope Thorin will forgive me. (Someone reminded on Tumblr how disappointed Thorin was in me, and I just felt guilty.)
> 
> But then I had to reread and remember where I was going with all this. I never liked Halina. She was always up to no good, though I can see her point in being so mad. But I'm not entirely sure where the whole truth is in all of this. Hopefully we find out soon. 
> 
> I hope this all makes sense, as I struggled for a few weeks trying to get the twists and turns all tied together in the correct way. I am still trying to fit some of it together, but in the next chapters, it will make more sense. I hope. 
> 
> Thanks for all that have stuck around. I apologize again for cheating with Dracula haha


	42. Chapter 42

“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Thorin hissed over his drink. He was sat at the great table in the war room, with Dwalin on one side, and Balin and Kili on the other. “And why am I only just hearing about this now?” 

“I thought I would find him, Thorin. And you’d never need to know. But he is gone.” Dwalin gave his best, truthful answer. 

“Who was supposed to be watching him?” Thorin asked, trying to reign in his temper. He knew he should have killed Dazmir that day in the stables, but he also knew that Rowan would not have liked that extreme measure. Now, he wanted nothing more than to see that dwarf strung up before the gates, a message, for all to see and learn from. 

“The guards are being questioned, Thorin,” Balin answered in his brother’s stead. “It must have happened between changing shifts. He must have slipped away in the night.”

“But no one has seen him, so that’s good, right?” Kili innocently asked. “Perhaps he ran off into the woods, never to be heard from again?” 

Thorin slammed an open hand down on the table. “He almost raped the one I—…” He closed his eyes, catching himself before saying something he shouldn’t. With his head bowed, and eyes shut, he did not see the three sets of bewildered eyes staring back at him. The king composed himself, and took in a deep, steadying breath. A look passed between Dwalin and his brother. 

“He attempted to rape a member of my kingdom.” Thorin’s words were low and menacing. “Because of that, he had forfeited the right to leave here. And now he has forfeited his right to live. We will find him, and when we do, I will kill him myself.” He stood up. “As I have done before, and as I should have done this time.” 

“Where are you going, laddie?” Balin asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer. “Perhaps you should take an escort with you?” 

Dwalin also stood, and grabbed at Thorin's forearm. He leaned in to whisper: "This is not the same, Thorin."

The king jerked his arm away, but said nothing as he left the room, slamming the door behind him, and rattling damn near the whole of Erebor. 

“Well, that went well…” Dwalin grumbled. “I suppose he’s running off to her?” 

“He just admitted that he loved her!” Balin huffed. “Where do you think he’ll be going?” 

Dwalin nodded at Kili. “Take some guards, search the grounds for the prisoner. I'll follow Thorin.” 

* * *

“Thorin.” Rowan peered up at him from the crack of the opened door. 

Thorin’s smile wavered when she didn’t open the door to him. “Are you going to let me in?” 

“I’m busy, actually…” Rowan hedged. “What do you need?” 

“I need to see you.” The king stepped closer, crowding the door with his large frame. “Look, I know things were…different last eve, but please, let me in. I need to talk to you.” 

“And if I say no?”

“Why would you say no?” A bemused frown on his face, Thorin moved in even closer, and Rowan had no choice but to allow him in. The king entered her home, his eyes full of concern as he surveyed her home. He looked around, and then back at Rowan. “What’s going on here? What are these bags?” 

“I’m leaving.” 

Thorin laughed, humored at her joke, but then his smile faded again at the look on her face. “You’re serious. Why?” 

“I am not a prisoner, right? You said I was free to go, and go I will. I want to leave here.” Rowan busied herself with a sheet, folding it again and tucking it in her small bag. Thorin came to stand at her back. 

“You want to leave me?” His deep voice, tinged with hurt, rumbled through her body, shaking her resolve. 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” The hurt was still there in that simple word. 

“You know why, Thorin.” 

“I thought you’d forgiven me.” He reached out to touch her, but withdrew. “You said to give you time, and I have been. I have been trying.” He moved closer, so close that his front was pressed at her back. “You said you’d forgiven me.”

“And you said you’d never lie to me!” Rowan snapped at him, moving away so that she could stand on the other side of the table. 

“What have I lied about, Rowan? Please tell me, so I can make it right!” 

“Was Halla pregnant?” Rowan’s voice cracked on the words, her eyes welling with tears.

Thorin nodded. His face had gone ghostly white. “She was indeed with child.” 

“And you abandoned her and your unborn child to save your grandfather?” Rowan was nearly screaming. “How could you do that?” 

Thorin frowned, and took a step back. “That is not true. Who have you been talking to? Who told you these things?” 

“Does it matter?” Rowan snapped again. Furious, she began tossing various items into her bags, not caring what went where or in what state. She just needed to get away from him. As fast as possible. 

“It does matter, because I don’t think you have the whole truth.” Thorin stepped closer again, one hand pressed at his heart. “Please, Rowan. I will answer anything you want from me. I will tell you whatever you want to know, as honestly as I can. But please, stop this. You cannot leave.” 

Rowan stopped what she was doing and pinned him with a stare. “What did you do with Lord Korvath and his daughter? Did you dispatch of them, too?”

Thorin’s confusion grew. “Korvath? I honestly have no bloody idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Of course, you don’t!” Rowan laughed humorlessly. 

“You aren’t making any sense, love. Please, sit with me, and let’s talk.” Thorin pulled out a chair and beckoned her to it. “Rowan. Talk to me.” 

Rowan ignored his offer to sit. “You don’t love me, Thorin. Do not toss around words you don’t mean!” Furious, she picked up, and then threw an empty glass at him, growing madder when he ducked, and it shattered on her wall. The king barely flinched, though his countenance grew ever darker at her actions. 

“Do not throw anything at me, ever again.” 

His warning, so low that it would make a normal person sweat, did nothing to Rowan. She was beyond the point of caring, and fear was long behind her. Now, she was fueled by a burning rage and sickening hurt, both vying for her attention as they threatened to rip her apart. She wanted to hurt him as she hurt, to make him feel how she felt. So betrayed, so fooled. So wronged. She looked around for something else to throw at him, but was caught off-guard when Thorin wrapped his arms around her to hold her against his chest. 

“Let me go!” She screeched, kicking at him, and flailing about. She managed to get one hand free, and landed a stinging slap against his cheek, the noise loud and obnoxious in her small home. Thorin let her go, his cheek reddening from her palm, and Rowan saw the anger rising in him, saw the way his jaw was ticking under his beard, but she cared not. The way he just stood there was aggravating her to no end. How could he just be so…_unaffected?_ She saw red. 

“What’s wrong, Thorin?” Rowan sneered. “You don’t like being hit?” She charged him, her intent to slap him again, but he pushed her off with ease. Clumsy, Rowan tripped, and fell to the ground. She glared up at him, equally embarrassed and infuriated from her spot on the floor. 

“Rowan! Stop this! What’s gotten into you? Who have you been talking to?” 

“People who will tell me the truth!” Rowan hissed. She crawled up first to her knees, and then stood. “And not only what I want to hear!” 

The king lowered his chin. “Give me a name.” 

“Why, so you can hurt them, too?” Rowan laughed in his face. “I think not.” She approached him again, slowly. “If you want to look for someone to blame, I think you should find a mirror.” 

“What happened between last night and now?”

“The truth happened,” Rowan spat up at him. She stared into his eyes for a moment longer, then forced herself to look away. Whatever that was in his eyes, she couldn’t bear it right now. She returned to her bags and continued to pack. “Now get out of my house.”

“If I leave your door, you will never hear from me again. Is that what you truly want?” 

“It is all I want! All I’ve ever wanted since you brought me here!” Rowan whispered loudly. “I have always wanted to be free of you!” Frustrated, she slammed her hands down on her bag and clenched her fingers against the fabric, tight enough to turn her knuckles white. 

Hurt and pain, in equal parts, permeated the stillness of the room as her words hung between them. Silence stretched thin and deafening, the only sound their breaths. Utterly defeated, Rowan dropped her head to her chest, and let her tears fall. Hot and salty, they rolled down her cheeks and dripped down her jaw, wetting the front of her shirt. She had gone too far this time with her words, but there was no taking them back. But she wanted to. Eru how she wanted to reel those words back in and keep on living in her fantasy world where Thorin was not so bad, and maybe he cared about her, and all the other stuff was just side-chatter that could be saved for another day. And if she thought her heart was hurting already, his next words would gut her. 

“I love you, Rowan. It’s true, whether you believe it or not. Whether you accept it or not, it is true. I do love you. I came to confess that to you this eve, and now, even though you will not accept my love, I want you to know that you will always have it. No matter how detestable you deem me, or my affection. It will always be yours.” Thorin’s words were strained with emotion, and Rowan felt a fresh set of tears erupt from her eyes. “I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, or what you’ve been told, but I won’t argue with you any further. I don’t think you care for my opinion, nor my explanations, and as aggravating as that is, I know I must find a way to accept that.” 

She stiffened when she felt him approach her again, from behind. He didn’t touch her, though, save for the pressing of his nose against the back of her head. She felt him breathe her in, could feel the rise of his strong chest as he exhaled. She let out a sob, on the very edge of breaking down, and hugged herself so as to not reach for him. He was so compelling, but Halina’s words echoed in her head, fogging her up with doubt and confusion and so much burning anger. 

“I will always love you. And I will always take care of you, whether you allow it, or want it.” Thorin kissed the back of her head, softly. “But I will let you go. I won’t stop you, and I won’t try to convince you in order to sway you from what you believe is truth.” His jaw hardened as his back stiffened in anger. “But it’s a lie, all of it. Save for my affection for Halla, because I did love her. I loved Halla. I did. And my only mistake was loving her more than she could have ever loved me. And trust me, I will not be making that mistake again.” 

Rowan stood quietly; her head bowed to her chest. Heavy, tense moments passed and finally the king spoke again. 

“It was Halina, wasn’t it? The one who confessed all my fell deeds to you?” Thorin asked quietly. Rowan’s silence was enough of an answer for him, and he continued. 

“I suppose it makes sense that she’d be the one to tell you all. But you see, what your friend failed to further explain was that while Halla was with child,_ she was not with my child._ I was gone to war for over a year, and when I returned, she was pregnant. It could not have possibly been my child. She said she was raped, and it resulted in a child. And I believed her story, though there are others who do not believe she was being truthful to me. To this day, I don't know the truth. And, who was I to question her, when I should have been here to protect her?” Thorin’s words were heavy with a growing anger, and no small amount of self-loathing. “And I stupidly loved her, and I was going to stand by her side, and I was going to marry her. I was going to pass that child off as my own, though I knew my grandfather would not allow us to marry because of her stature as a non-noble. But I was going to tell him she was with child, and claim it as my own to further our cause, but….the dragon came, and…things happened….and…” Thorin shook his head, and walked away, his arms crossed over his chest as he turned from her. Rowan stood still, looking at him and then away, and then back at him. 

“Halina said that you accused her sister of lying about the baby, but that it was yours, Thorin, and that you couldn’t bear the thought of having a child with someone not noble, and—” Rowan was so confused, her convictions wavering as she considered Thorin’s very plausible explanation. 

_“Spare me!”_ Thorin slammed his hands down on the table as he turned back to her. His eyes flashed vividly, electric blue and full of rage. “I only ever stood by her side, her and her sister's! It’s why I continued to employ Halina here. And why I was stupid enough to go along with it, to accept that child and her, because I loved her that much. Despite what everyone said, how they all tried to tell me otherwise, I was going to marry her, and raise that child as my own. Regardless of how it was conceived!" The king’s voice cracked. “I loved her, Rowan. With all my being, I did. And had that dragon not come, and had Erebor not burned, you and I would not be having this conversation, because I would be married to her.”

Rowan could only shake her head, and helplessly shrug her shoulders. “I don’t know what’s true or not, I only know what Halina said.”

“Is that so? Then you have all you need to know, don’t you?” Thorin bit out. “You have her word, and you have mine. And there is no one else to say otherwise.”

“How am I supposed to make a decision with only that?” Rowan cried. “How am I supposed to believe you over her?’

It was Thorin’s turn to shake his head. “I don’t care what you believe or not. You’ve shown me all I need to know about you.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” Rowan was shaking, her heart palpitating as she waited for his answer. 

“That you are not loyal, and that all it takes is the word of someone else to sway your opinion.” Thorin turned away from her, and made for the door. Frantic, Rowan ran after him, and grabbed his arm, but he angrily jerked away from her, and in the process, flung her off him. Rowan landed at his feet, her eyes full of tears as she looked up at him. He backed away from her, his hands trembling with the shock of what he’d just done, and all the words that had just passed between them. 

“I need to leave. Before you get hurt. I have to leave. Now.” 

“You said you’d never hurt me again,” Rowan whispered. 

“And I don’t want to,” he shook his head, and backed further away. “So, I must leave.”

“Thorin—”

He cut her off with a slash of his hand in the air. _“NO!_ I will never again enter into a relationship where I am not trusted or cannot trust the person I am with. I knew this was folly from the beginning. I knew it, and yet I pursued it anyway.” The king swallowed, his lips pressed with agony, his tone full of regret. “But you don’t trust me, and I can’t make you believe me. And I can’t be worried that at any moment, you’ll run out my door. I can’t live like that. I have too many responsibilities, and I…_I just can’t do this_.” He ran a hand over his face, a desperate attempt to wipe away his emotions. 

When he looked back at her, Rowan was shocked to see only a coldness remaining on his beautiful face. No longer was there warmth in his eyes, no longer was there happiness to see her; Thorin was devoid of emotion, his face blank, and his gaze cold and detached. And, at some baser level of her soul, she knew that she was wrong in her judgement of him, that the truth of it all lay somewhere in-between all that she’d been told and all that she believed. 

She reached for him. “If you can just give me some time, let me think over all of this, and try and sort things out in my head.” 

Thorin shook his head. “No. No more time. No more conversation. No more talking, and no more explaining. No more. I am tired, Rowan. Tired of the lies and deceit and tired of the sickness and unhappiness that permeates Erebor. I am tired of this. I just want to be free of it all.” He pinned her with a hard gaze. “I want you to leave my kingdom. Go wherever, to Dale, or to wherever, but I don’t want you here any longer.” 

Rowan pressed the palms of her hands at her eyes, willing herself to not cry any longer. The door slammed, and in the next moment, he was gone. Rowan lifted her head, and stared at the door through watery eyes, wishing he’d come back through it and take her in his arms, and tell her that he loved her again. She wanted to run after him, to apologize and explain, but knew that she shouldn’t. She couldn't. It was too late, and too much had happened, and there was no turning back. Not any longer. She just needed to leave. And so, she finished packing up her meager belongings, and before much longer, she was exiting her home and heading out of Erebor. She would stop at the stables on the way out, collect Lily, and she would be gone forever. 


	43. Chapter 43

Rowan was heading out of the stables when she saw the warrior dwarf that she didn’t particularly care for sitting on the stone bench outside the entrance. Her intent was to stop and see Lily, but now the Dwalin was there, she knew she’d have to speak to him for at least a moment. And as much as Rowan didn’t want to see anyone, she knew she needed to say goodbye to someone. She wanted to see Kili and Balin, but realized she wouldn’t be able to do it without breaking down, so she hoped that Dwalin would pass on her well-wishes to them in her stead. 

“Hello, Dwalin,” Rowan greeted softly. She sat down on the stone bench beside him. The hardened dwarf nodded his head, though he did not look at her. He continued chewing on the stem of something he had between his lips. “I’ve come to say goodbye,” Rowan continued. 

“So, ‘tis true then. You are leaving.” 

“Yes. I think it’s for the best.” She fiddled with her fingers in her lap. “Have you…seen Thorin? Is he well?” 

“What do you think?” Dwalin finally turned to look at Rowan, and when he did so, his eyes burned with fire. “How can you ask such a stupid question with such a straight face?”

Rowan lowered her head, and her cheeks flamed with shame. “There’s no need to be mean, Dwalin. I know you and I have never seen eye to eye, but I don’t think I deserve this level of disrespect from you.” 

“Oh, aye, but you do,” Dwalin rejoined. “And yes, I saw him a moment ago, I assume after he left your home. He said you’d be leaving, and taking your pony.” 

“Thorin is not the dwarf I thought he was,” was all Rowan could manage. Even the mention of his name brought tears to her eyes, and formed a choking knot in her throat. 

“He is ten-thousand times better than you give him credit for, and even more than you deserve.” Dwalin spat. “And you don’t know what kind of dwarf he is, not truly, because you refuse to see it. Because you are a fool.” 

“Dwalin, I—” 

Rowan yelped when the dwarf reached out and grabbed her hand, forcing her to touch the bare skin of his forearm. She tried to pull back, but he held her to him, forcing her to feel him. To see. 

_“Look.” _

Rowan gasped as images flooded her mind, images that were flooding Dwalin’s mind, and now were being seen by her. _A dark-haired dwarven female, beautiful, with deep-brown eyes…The image blurred from one to the next, and then she saw the same female, deep in the throes of passion, sat upon another as they made love in the hay. The stable.** This stable**_**.** Rowan blinked, trying to clear her mind’s eye, not wanting to see these things. It felt wrong. It made her sick at her stomach. 

“What…?”

“Keep looking!” Dwalin hissed as he grasped her hand more tightly to hold her to him. 

_Another image, this one of the same female dwarf and a male, both hastily dressing. The feeling of shame. Embarrassment. Their nude backs as they gathered their clothing. An angry dwarf’s voice conjured up images of a bald head and tattoos, of battle axes. Rage. _

“You…” Rowan whispered. 

“Keep going!” 

_Then Thorin was there, and he was tearing his room apart, destroying things, crying. On his knees. Then the female was there. She was crying. Thorin was on his knees at her waist, hugging her as she embraced him._ And Rowan felt pity wash over her, with equal parts disgust, and then she couldn’t take it anymore. She jerked her hand back and stared at Dwalin. 

“It was you that caught them, and you that I saw through.” Rowan was whispering. “But, she was raped. I was told that she was raped…Thorin said that—”

_“Raped?”_ Dwalin gave an angry laugh. “By my beard, you are a stupid one, aren’t you? Rape, my ass! That’s what she would have you believe! And aye, it was me that caught that bitch in the stables with her consort.” He snorted again with distaste. “Raped. Did she look like she was doing anything she didn’t consent to? Shall you look again?!” He reached for Rowan, but she recoiled from his touch. The hardened warrior continued his tirade whilst Rowan sat in stunned silence. 

“I caught her that day in the stables, her and him. And it was me that forced her to go to him, to tell him the truth.” Dwalin sneered. “But she didn’t do that, not even close. I regret to this day that I didn’t follow her in and make her explain herself truthfully, for much would be different now.” 

Rowan sat in stunned silence, knowing that anything she said would be unwanted.

“The baby was not his. I don't care what Halina says. There is no way. Thorin was gone, lassie. For months he was gone, almost a year. And that bitch, Halla, I saw her. I was injured, and had to return from the fight early, and I caught her whilst down at the stables. There was no way that child was Thorin’s, and that was no rape I walked in on. And she finally admitted it to me after being caught red-handed, and after I threatened her life, and the life of the bastard she was with.” 

“Who was the man she was with?” 

“Some dwarf who’s name I cannot even recall. And probably not the first, nor the last. She was not a faithful dwarrowdam, Rowan. She was a conniving bitch who took every opportunity she could to get what she wanted. And what she wanted more than anything else was the title that came with marrying Thorin. We all saw it, but Thorin never would. All he ever wanted was a family, a wife, and children of his own.” Dwalin spat on the ground at his feet. “When he returned, I forced her to tell him what happened, for she never would have on her own. I forced her to tell him, but the bitch lied through her bloody teeth.” 

Rowan’s mind was spinning, trying to piece everything together. 

“She was no good for him, had slept with countless others if rumor was to be believed, and had gotten herself pregnant.” Dwalin shook his head and chuckled, humorlessly, for there was nothing funny about this topic. “And Thorin, the bloody idiot, was going to marry her despite. She somehow convinced him that the dwarf had taken her by force. That she’d been raped, and that it had resulted in an unwanted pregnancy. Raped. And he believed her.” 

“Oh my goodness…” Rowan felt the blood leave her face as things started falling into place. Halina was wrong. Her anger was misguided in so many ways, and she needed to tell her. And she needed to apologize to Thorin._ Oh Eru..._

“The dwarf that she was supposedly raped by…Thorin had him executed immediately thereafter the conversation. Strung up by his neck, for all to see and bear witness to, and only on the word of Halla. We only knew about it by the travel of gossip, for he had not consulted with us.” Dwalin crossed his arms over his chest, and shook his head. “No, he took that dwarf down to the front gates, and executed him by himself, with his bare hands. And to this day, I don’t know what he believes, for I don’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. And we don’t speak of it. Ever.”

“You never told him about what you saw? About catching her and him?” 

“It happened too fast, her manipulation of him, and before I could get to him and explain, he’d already killed the dwarf. After it was done, I didn’t have the heart to. How was I supposed to tell him that he’d been deceived by his love, and also killed an innocent? He believed her, and wanted her, and who was I to take that from him? And as disgusting as that dwarf that she’d consorted with was, he was innocent. He was no rapist, not from what I saw.” Dwalin sighed. “That bitch had spun her web of lies, and Thorin was caught right in the midst of it. He was riddled with guilt, you see. Still is, to this day. And should I tell him about the truth, it will be one more thing he will carry with him. One more failure.” 

“But how could he blame himself? He was lied to!” Rowan wondered, her heart breaking for Thorin. 

“It’s over now. Best to let it die, like everything else.” 

“Oh Eru,” Rowan whispered again. Thorin was going to marry Halla, just as he said. It was all just as he’d said, and all just as he’d believed it to be. He had been telling the truth all along, or at least the truth as he knew it. _Oh no. _

“But let me make something clear, witch.” Dwalin had turned back to her, his lips pressed with displeasure as if the words on his tongue disgusted him. “He never loved her, not in the way that the bloody idiot cares for you. He felt responsible for her, for being gone when she was supposedly taken advantage of, and he was trying to do right by her. By her baby. And he would have married her, no matter what any of us said. But he did not care for her the way he cares for you.” 

“I don’t think he cares for me, not anymore.” Rowan quickly swiped at her eyes. 

Dwalin spat again. “You do not deserve him.” 

“You’re right, I don’t. It’s why I’m leaving.” Rowan stood up, gathering her satchel, and looping it back over her shoulder. Dwalin remained seated. 

“And where will you go?” 

“I don’t know. Far away from here. I don’t want to bother him any longer.” Rowan hesitated, wishing that there was some other way. “Halina has a place on the edge of town, out past the old Lake-Town. I may go and visit her first, and possibly stay a bit. Or I may go into Dale. I have friends there also.”

Dwalin frowned. “Halina?” 

“Yes,” Rowan nodded. “I’m sure you understand why she’s not wanting to remain in Thorin’s presence.” 

“Indeed,” Dwalin rubbed a hand at his beard. “Do you think it wise to stay with her, given all that I’ve told you about her sister?” 

“It wasn’t me that she’s angry at, Dwalin,” Rowan explained. “She’s mad at Thorin, and though it’s misplaced, I can understand her anger. But she needs to know the truth.” Rowan shuffled her bag. "And I'm not taking Lily. Not yet. Tell Thorin I'll come back to collect her at a later date." 

Dwalin said nothing, continued to sit and scowl. As Rowan reached the doorway, she hesitated for a moment. 

"But Dwalin? Please tell Thorin I'm sorry. For everything. For doubting him, for all of it." Rowan's chin trembled with grief. "Please, just tell him I'm sorry." 

"Goodbye, witch," was all Dwalin responded with, and Rowan left the stables and headed out of Erebor. Dwalin stood, his keen eyes watching along the walls and everywhere, looking for Dazmir. As soon as Rowan had left the gates and headed down to the long road to Dale, he readied his horse, and quietly followed. 

* * *

Rowan ultimately did not take Lily with her, chose instead to leave her with Thorin, as she knew it would be safest. She had no idea what lay beyond the gates of Erebor, no idea at all. And while she felt confident in taking care of herself, she didn’t feel as confident being responsible for sweet Lily. She was so confused now, so terribly confused and unsure, but she decided once she made it to Dale that she was going to keep going, that she would go and see Halina. And explain everything. Make things right. As she walked away from Erebor, and made her way down the long and winding path that led to Lake-Town, she thought that maybe once she’d settled, she’d send for Lily. Perhaps Thorin would allow her to take her back. Maybe once she'd cleared up things with Halina, things would settle for them all. She was so far away, and the sun was beginning to set, and she began to worry that she was lost, when suddenly, just as she passed along the edges of the ruined city on the lake, her eyes came upon a small cabin. Next to it sat a small shed or barn, and a horse was tied outside. She smiled in relief when she saw smoke rising from the small chimney on the house, and knew that she'd arrived. 

“Rowan…” 

Rowan felt her stomach twist at that voice. She turned around to see Dazmir’s face as he stepped out from the shadow of the house. He had a dagger in his good hand. The blood drained from her face, and she immediately knew it had been a mistake coming here. 

“Where’s Halina? What have you done with her?” Rowan spat. Dazmir came closer. His knubby-ended arm was held up in warning, while the other pointed the knife pointed at her. 

“Please, Rowan. Just don’t make this any harder than it need be. Just get on your knees. Now.” 

Rowan dropped down, though she kept her hands tight against her satchel. 

“Let the bag go.” Dazmir ordered. “Do it, or I’ll do it for you.” Rowan reluctantly released the bag, her eyes on Dazmir as she awaited further commands. “Get on your knees and put your hands on the ground.” 

Rowan did so, although she couldn’t resist reminding Dazmir of just what had happened in the stables. “I am not even a little surprised to see you here. I should have killed you when I had the chance, but I didn’t.” She glared at the dwarf. “Why are you doing this? And where is Halina? What did you do to her?” 

“No questions,” Dazmir snapped at her. “Now, put your head down on the ground!” 

Rowan did as he asked, and a moment later, all went black as the butt-end of his dagger struck her at just the right spot near her temple to render her unconscious. 

Neither of them saw Dwalin slink back into the edge of the woods, and hurry to his horse...

“So, there you are, you bastard,” Dwalin growled, as he watched, from atop his horse, as Dazmir looped a rope around Rowan's feet and dragged her into the small shack. His scowl grew, and he was torn between wanting to rush in and take care of this himself, or take it back to the king as he knew he should. Thorin was going to rain hell down on this place. 

He turned his horse back towards Erebor, and spurred it on, moving it as fast as he could. His theory had been right: if he could send Rowan out, alone, perhaps he’d find the prisoner, and it was just as he suspected: It was Dazmir that was behind all of this.

The slimy bastard. 


	44. Chapter 44

Rowan grimaced as she came too, and her immediate thought was to block the sun from her eyes as it streamed through the small window, but she found she could not do so due to her hands being bound at her lower back. Squinting, she looked around, trying to determine where she was. She was in a barn, some small building, with hay on the ground. It was dark and dusty and smelled rotten and wet. 

“Hello?” Rowan called with a raspy voice. When she tried to stand, she fell over, as she was also tied at her feet to the wall. The door opened, and she squinted again, first from the sun, and then from shock at who entered. 

“Halina? What are you…how…?” Rowan’s words died off when Halina remained silent. The door was closed behind her, and the curtain was pulled down over the window, and now the only light was that of the candle Halina lit. The dwarf pulled up a chair and sat in front of Rowan. 

“I’m pleased you finally decided to come, Rowan. I was worried that we were going to have to forcibly bring you here.” 

Rowan looked at her friend. “What do you mean? What’s going on?” 

“Don’t be so dumb, Rowan. Think about it. Why are you here?” Halina toyed with the dagger she’d just produced from her waist. “Why are you all here?”

“All?” Rowan looked around, and saw no one else. “Who else is here? What is going on?”

“Well, I have you, and my father and sister. We are only missing our dwarf king, and then we can finally get on with this little show.” Halina grinned, the action making her look like a demon in the flickering candle light. Rowan felt sick inside. 

“I…I don’t understand. Your father and sister?”

“Lord Korvath and the Lady Krovithra, of course!” Halina giggled again. Rowan felt her heart stutter a bit when she realized what was happening. Korvath and his daughter weren’t missing as Halina had insinuated - _They were here._ Halina had lured her out here. Had lured them all out here. And now she wanted Thorin to come. Rowan’s stomach flipped with unease…

“Look, I know you’re angry, Halina, but this is not going to solve anything,” Rowan tried to reason with her former friend. “I trusted you. How could you do this to me? And why is Dazmir here? You know what he tried to do to me!” 

Infuriated, Halina leaned forward and pointed the knife at Rowan’s face, the blade just inches away from her cheek. “Yes, and I thought I could trust you, but there you are, consorting with my enemy.”

“Enemy?” Rowan questioned, but then she understood. _“Thorin._ This is all about him, isn’t it?”

“It’s always about him, isn’t it?” Halina stood and began pacing. 

“Thorin won’t come for me, Halina.” Rowan blinked back bitter tears. “He won’t, so you might as well let me go.” 

Halina turned hateful eyes on Rowan, and sneered. “He’ll come. He can’t stay away from you, bastard that he is, and once the message is received that your would-be rapist escaped and kidnapped us all, I imagine he’ll be here before any of us can blink.” 

“He won’t come for me,” Rowan repeated, sadly, as she stared down at her feet. Her back was aching from the awkward angle, and the rope was entirely too tight around her wrists. As she moved, she winced when she felt something sharp poke her in her palm. 

“He will. He will. Although, I can’t understand why he would come for you. Does he love you?” Halina wondered out loud. “He wouldn’t marry my sister because of her status, so why you? You aren’t even a dwarf.” She shook her head at Rowan. “I’d imagine you can’t even bear him children, so why would he take you for a bride?” 

“You are wrong about, Thorin,” Rowan cast her own hateful look. “He would have married your sister! He told me so himself!” 

“The word of the dwarf king?” Halina laughed evilly. “The same one that beat you senseless, and you’re stupid enough to think fondly of him. What a fool you are.” 

“He was going to marry her, even though she slept with someone else and became pregnant.” Rowan pinned Halina with cold eyes. “It’s true Halina, whether you believe it or not. He was going to marry her!” Rowan swallowed. “Even though Thorin had concerns about the story your sister told him. He chose to believe her, even though that was not his child! He was still going to claim it for his own. I saw the truth from someone who knows! From someone who knows the truth your sister lied to you and everyone about!”

“What did you just say?” The dwarrow stalked towards Rowan, her fists balled at her sides as she seethed. 

“Dwalin. Dwalin caught them in the stables. Your sister and one of her consorts, having sex. Your sister had an innocent dwarf killed. Executed after she accused him of raping her.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Halina stopped before Rowan. The dwarf’s face was flushed, her anger high on her cheeks as her fists continued clenching and unclenching. 

“Just before I left, I saw it. Dwalin told me everything. And I touched him, and I saw everything. He forced your sister to tell Thorin the truth, but she lied, and said she was raped. She lied to Thorin about the child she was carrying.” Rowan lifted her chin. “She was not raped, Halina! She was not—”

Whatever Rowan was going to say was lost, as Halina slapped her, hard across her face. Rowan winced, tasting the sharp metallic sting of blood as her lip split against her teeth. Her vision was filled with stars as she slowly turned her head back to Halina, and the dwarf slapped her again. Harder this time. The impact bounced Rowan’s head off the wall, and she gasped in shock, her vision blurring again as her mouth filled with more blood that now dripped down her chin.

“You stupid bitch! How can you believe them over me? Over my sister! Of course the would try to lie! She would never have done such a thing!” Halina, enraged, and no longer satisfied with slapping, began kicking Rowan, first at her legs, and then in her side and back as Rowan fell over and curled into a fetal position. Over and over, Halina took her anger out on Rowan, each blow stunning Rowan’s system, each kick leaving another bruise, another swell of pained flesh. All Rowan could do was close her eyes and hope that it would stop. Eventually Halina got tired and the beating ceased. She pushed at Rowan with the toe of her boot, rolling her former friend onto her back, grinning as Rowan struggled to catch her breath. 

The door opened, and another figure entered. Over the throbbing in her head, Rowan tried to listen. She could not open her eyes, as they were already beginning to swell shut from the many blows landed by the furious dwarrow, but she could hear. 

“Well? What took you so long?” Halina shrieked at the new person. 

“I have them both, they’re in the smaller shed. Both are tied up, just like you asked me to.”

Rowan wanted to scream, for the voice she heard was none other than Dazmir. Was he working with Halina? _Oh Eru…_

“Good.” Halina’s voice was faint, as if she’d moved away. “Now we just need to deliver the message, and bring the king here, and we can get started.” 

“Halina, are you sure about this plan? He will kill you! And me.” Dazmir’s voice was filled with uncertainty. 

“Scared, are we? Don’t be such a coward!” Halina scoffed. “By the time he figures it out, it will be too late. His arrogance will be his undoing.” 

“And what will you do with Korvath and his daughter? Are you going to kill them too?”

Rowan felt tears leak from between her swollen lids at hearing that. Guilt washed over her at how she had hated Krovithra, for no reason other than her own jealousy. None of them deserved this. None of them. 

“My father and sister will be dealt with in due time.” Halina sneered. “Thorin will be blamed for their deaths, and you and I, we will be the ones who stopped the king from committing the murder of a noble family.” Halina huffed out a laugh. “Everyone knows that Thorin was to wed Krovithra, and for him to deny that match, it says something about his character. And they've been missing for over a week now, so it will all make sense when the bodies are found.” 

“And what about her?” Dazmir questioned. Rowan knew they were talking about her, and she stilled, pretending to be asleep. 

“We will kill her when he gets here. I want him to see and feel what it’s like to have everything taken from him. To feel heartbreak.” Halina laughed again. “And then, when he’s completely broken, I am going to kill him myself.” The dwarf fingered the blade of her knife menacingly. 

Dazmir gave a non-committal huff. “This is insane, don’t you see that? You said it was only to be your father and sister, you said nothing about killing Thorin Oakenshield! We cannot kill a king!” 

“Well, I lied,” Halina shrugged. “It’s always been about him.” She turned harsh eyes on the dwarf. "And don't pretend ignorance! You are lucky I let you out of that prison! You would have died there had I not freed you!" 

Rowan heard some shuffling, and then the two exited. She craned her head in an effort to hear, but only could make out every other word. The last thing she heard was Halina scream _"Just do it!"_ and then the door to the shed opened again. She started crying when she cracked open one eye, and could vaguely see Dazmir coming towards her. 

"Please, Dazmir! Please don't hurt me!" Rowan begged as she tried to crawl away. The dwarf approached her, using his good hand to hold up a finger at his mouth to silence her. He pulled out his knife, and slowly approached her, and Rowan started choking on tears and fear. 

"Be quiet. I'm not here to hurt you." He came closer, and Rowan cried harder. He reached around her and slid the knife blade under the chain around her neck, lifted it up from her skin, and ripped it off. He quickly stepped back, and when Rowan looked at his face, the dwarf appeared sad. Resigned. 

"I'm not going to let this happen, Rowan. This is not right, no matter what. I am not a bad dwarf, and I need to regain my family's honor." He held up her necklace. "I am sorry for what I did to you when I was drunk. I am so sorry. And I'm going to make it right. And when this is over, you make sure my family's name is not smeared forever." He stuck the necklace back inside his pocket, and with a nod, he was gone, the door closing behind him, and leaving the room to be enveloped in darkness again. 


	45. Chapter 45

Thorin's body shook, his hands bloodied, and his brow covered with sweat as he stood over Dwalin’s crumpled form. His friend. His brother. Thorin’s blue eyes narrowed with iciness. 

_The dwarf that had left Rowan to the care of a rapist. _

Dwalin had ridden back after seeing Dazmir take Rowan into that shed, his intentions to immediately tell Thorin. But finding Thorin had been almost impossible, as he'd been out riding along the Mirkwood, looking for Dazmir himself. When the king finally arrived back in Erebor, the evening was late, with the sun nearly setting, and Dwalin had more than a little fear weighing heavy in his stomach as he delivered the terrible news. As he expected, Thorin did not take it well. Not at all. 

“You should have never left her there alone!” 

“And what should I have done? Gone in by myself? And what if I had been killed in the process? Then what?” Dwalin retorted, just as angrily. He struggled to his feet, only to be knocked down again by Thorin’s boot. 

“Stop it, both of you!” Balin roared as he stepped between the pair. Thorin turned away, and began jerking on his boots, ready to ride off and go and find her, when the door to the war room was thrown open wide. Kili entered, followed by Bifur and Bofur. They were dragging another dwarf by the scruff of his shirt. Thorin's eyes narrowed into icy slivers. 

**Dazmir. **

Enraged, and not thinking, Thorin set up Dazmir like a wolf, landing blow after blow on the dwarf’s head and face and body, all the while screaming for the beaten dwarf to speak, though it was impossible to do so. It was Kili that finally was able to pull his uncle off the nearly-dead dwarf. And it was Kili that pressed something at Thorin’s chest, and when the king looked down, he was nearly brought to his knees by what he saw. 

“Her mothor’s necklace,” Thorin whispered. “How came you by this?” He looked back at Kili, then back down at Dazmir. He tried to lunge at the dwarf on the ground, thinking the worst must have happened, when Kili jerked his uncle back again.

“Let him speak, Uncle! You need to hear what he has to say!” Kili hugged his uncle tight. "He says she's alive, Uncle! Rowan is alive!"

Dazmir lay at Thorin’s feet, his face bruised and bloodied from the repeated blows the king had landed.

Kili released his uncle, finally, and Thorin leaned down to jerk Dazmir back by the hair on his head, forcing his busted face up. “Speak, filth. Do it now, or I will finish what I started.” 

Dwalin finally managed to clamber up to his knees and stood, his own form shaking and exhausted from taking a beating he knew he deserved. 

“He said it was Halina, Uncle,” Kili informed quietly. “It’s Halina that is behind all of this.” 

Thorin’s eyes narrowed as he looked around the room for answers. He finally looked back at Dazmir, his countenance darkening as his fingers gripped tighter the chain in his hand. “How do you have her necklace?”

“I tried to do what she asked, my king, but I can’t. No matter what you think of me, I’m not an evil dwarf, and I just can’t do it! Please, I have to explain before it’s too late!” Dazmir cried. He held his hands up, pleading with the king to hear him out. 

“Thorin, I think we need to let him finish,” Balin interjected. “Hear him out. If it doesn’t add up, then we proceed.” 

“Aye, he wouldn’t have risked certain death just to walk back in here and tell a lie,” Dwalin agreed as he stepped forward. Thorin glared at Dwalin, not ready to hear anything his friend had to say to him. 

“I took the necklace, so you’d believe me, my king,” Dazmir cried as he bowed his head before Thorin. “I had to prove to you that what I’m about to say is true. How else would I have her necklace if I hadn’t been around her?” 

“How do I know you haven’t hurt her already?” Thorin charged as he moved on Dazmir again. Kili caught him about his waist once more, and held him back. 

“Uncle, please! Let him speak!" 

Thorin nodded, reluctantly, and Kili let him go once more. Dazmir peeked up, warily, and then began talking.

He explained that he was supposed to have a message sent back by someone that he had kidnapped Rowan and Halina, and taken them to the house at the edge of Lake-Town. That it was to be believed that he, Dazmir, had conspired to do such things. But ultimately, he’d failed and couldn’t do it, and had instead come himself to explain. To tell the truth before things went awry. Before things got worse than they already were. That he couldn’t carry through with this plan, no matter how much he hated what Thorin had done to him. That regardless of what had happened between him and Rowan, he cared for her, and didn’t want to see her hurt. 

“And I know this will end in death for me, my king, but I have accepted my fate.” Dazmir lowered his head again, and his shoulders were hunched in shame. “I must atone for what I’ve done to her. For what I tried to do when I was drunk, even at such great cost to my own self. Even if I must forfeit my own life.” 

“So, ‘tis Halina, then, that has Korvath and his daughter, along with Rowan, at a house at the edge of Lake-Town?” Balin clarified. 

“Exactly so,” Dazmir answered as he dared look up. His eyes darted to the king. “Her goal was to lure you there, my king, and she was going to kill Rowan while you watched. And her father and sister, and blame it on you.” Dazmir swallowed. “And then she was going to kill you, sire.” 

“Korvath and Krovithra are Halina’s family?” Kili asked in confusion. Everyone save Thorin looked to Dazmir for confirmation. 

“Aye. Her father and half-sister,” Dazmir explained with a nod of his head. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Dwalin scowled. “It’s all making so much more sense now! That fucking bitch!” 

Thorin was pacing, his arms crossed over his chest, and the fingers of one hand at his beard. He was twisting his warrior bead around between his fingertips, his brow furrowed in contemplation. He looked calm and cool on the outside, but inside, his heart was hammering away, and he wanted nthing more than to fly out the window and go to her, to make sure she was safe and in his arms. His stomach churned with nausea as thoughts of her being unsafe invaded his mind…

“No wonder she and her sister were conniving for so long,” Dwalin continued, only to be cut off by Thorin slamming his hand down on the table in a rage. 

“I don’t care about who’s related to who,” Thorin hissed to all. “All I care about is getting Rowan back here, safe and sound. She should have never been let go, nor should she have been left in such danger in the first place!” His icy stare landed on Dwalin. “And if this ends badly, I will never forgive those who’ve been so careless. Never.” 

Dwalin lowered his head again, knowing it was he that had allowed her into such peril. Unknowingly, but nevertheless it had been he that left her there. 

“Thorin? What do you want to do?” Balin stood up. “This is all a huge mess, and pointing fingers does no good.”

“Well, we know that Halina won’t hurt Rowan until she has you,” Kili decided. He looked to Dazmir. “Is that true?” 

“Yes, my lord.” Dazmir nodded at the young prince, before looking back to Thorin. “She won’t do anything to her until you’re there, my king. It is you that she wants, above all else.” 

“Well, I suppose that’s a relief, at least,” Balin sighed as he sat down in an empty chair. 

“Aye, it’s me she wants.” Thorin turned back to see the faces of his friends and kin. “I should go alone.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Dazmir interjected, earning curious looks from the other dwarfs as Dwalin and Balin agreed. Thorin disagreed. 

“Going alone is not wise, I agree. But why are you worried for our king now?” Dwalin pointedly asked. “What game are you playing at?” 

“It is you that she wants, but she is insane, my king. She will stop at nothing to exact her revenge. If you go to her, you will surely die.” Dazmir lowered his head in shame. 

“And if I show up with an army deep, what will she do then?” Thorin growled. “Will she not react the same? And perhaps prematurely? If she thinks I’ve come with an army, what’s to stop her from killing Rowan on the spot?” Thorin pinned his azure gaze on Dazmir again. “Tell me once more, who is there with her, and where they are all hidden. I want to know the layout of that place, down to the last speck of dirt.” 

Dazmir shook as the king knelt before him, and he nearly pissed himself when Thorin painfully grabbed his chin and forced him to meet his eyes. 

“And yes, your life is forfeit. That was decided the moment you put your hands on her. But if you cooperate with me now, I promise it won’t be as painful when I kill you.” Thorin squeezed the dwarf’s chin in his fingers. “The choice is yours, but I warn, you. Choose wisely.” 


	46. Chapter 46

It was late, though how late, Rowan had no idea. All she knew was she was tired of sitting in this dark, simply awaiting her fate at the hands of an insane dwarf. 

“Halina. Halina!” Rowan called, and before long, the dwarf appeared. Halina had a sour look on her face. 

“What do you want?” 

“You have to let me go to the bathroom at some point.” Rowan gestured down to her pants. “Or shall I urinate on myself here?”

Halina shook her head. “I can’t trust you.” 

“Look, I know you don’t believe me, but don’t you think I hate Thorin just as much as you?” Rowan cajoled. “He lied to me. He tricked me. He had me thinking I was something special, when in reality, he was just using me. Just like your sister.” Rowan dropped her head, and gave a sniffle. “I see that now, Halina. I’ve had time to get away from him, to be away from him, and I can see the truth now. All this time to think, it has opened my eyes.” 

“How do I know you’re not lying?” 

“You don’t, idiot!” Rowan snapped. “But I have to use the bathroom. And if you don’t want to clean up urine from all over me and this ground, then you’d better let me up! I’ll be stinking of it ‘ere too long!” 

Halina scowled, and Rowan softened her tone, and gave a familiar smile.

“I’m sorry. Halina, you know me. You’ve known me. I’m just so aggravated that I was used by someone I thought cared about me. It hurts, you know?” Rowan continued. “To think of someone as a friend, to feel that someone you loved could treat you in such a way, and to have them turn on you like that? To think that someone cares about you, only to find out they really don't. Can you imagine how I feel? I feel really stupid.” 

Halina came closer. 

“And honestly, when Thorin beat me so badly, you were the one that helped me the most. You tended my wounds. You braided my hair. You brought me food. You were the only one that I could relate to for so long.” Rowan gave a sweet smile. “You were like my little sister, the one I’d lost in that fire that the king brought down on me and my family. You, and Lofala. You both became my family, after mine was taken by Thorin Oakenshield.” Rowan’s eyes filled with tears. “And I am sorry that I betrayed you like that. That I turned on you, when all you ever did was treat me fairly. Can you ever forgive me?” 

Halina tilted her head, contemplating. “How do I know you’re not just playing me for a fool?” 

“You don’t,” Rowan shrugged. “You don’t. But I promise you, you will fare better with me on your side versus having me as an enemy.” Rowan shifted, and took a deep breath. “Look, Halina. The fact of the matter is, Thorin lied to me. He lied to us all. He destroyed my family, just as he did yours. And you’re right. I want revenge. Do not take that from me. Please.”

Moments passed as Rowan waited, until finally Halina seemed to relent. Rowan’s heart thumped in her chest.

“I’m going to let you go, but I swear, if you try anything, I’ll kill you.” Halina leaned over Rowan to undo the ties at her hands, and pressed the tip of the blade against Rowan’s thigh. Rowan winced, but knew she needed to take this chance. It was now or never. 

“Idiot,” Rowan hissed as she clamped her free hand around Halina’s neck, and pulled the dwarf down to her level. She saw Halina’s face contort, with first rage, and then go white with fear. Realization of the mistake she’d made dawned on the dwarf, and she instinctively jammed the blade into the top of Rowan’s thigh. Rowan grimaced with pain as the blade met bone, but leaned closer, so close that she could press her cheek to the dwarf’s.

S_kin to skin contact. _

Rowan whispered against Halina's ear: “You should have never trusted me.” 

Since Rowan had been sat here in the dark, she had too much time on her hands to think and sort things through. Plans started forming; Plans that didn’t require Thorin coming to her rescue. For she figured he wouldn’t come at all, and if she was ever going to get out of this mess alive, she’d have to do it on her own. Her mind started spinning, memories of how she’d taken down Dazmir in the stables. How she'd almost killed him. Of how she was able to sway so many with her touch. How angry she was at being held hostage like this. How infuriating it was to be lied to by someone she had long-assumed her friend. How she’d been tricked and cheated and fooled. How she was being used as bait…

But most importantly, she finally realized how much she cared about Thorin, and how unbelievably worried she was about him, and how terrified she was at what might happen to him should he dare come. Even though she knew he wouldn’t come for her, he very well might come for Korvath and Krovithra, and she couldn’t let anything happen to him. Not when she was able to do something about it. Even if it meant she might die in the process, she wasn't going to let any harm come to him. 

_No,_ she decided, _she needed to take matters into her own hands –** literally -** before anyone else got hurt._ And so, whilst she was left alone, she found the edge of rusty nail peeking from the wall she’d been tied against, and she had been wriggling one hand about for so long that the skin was nearly coming off, but finally, she’d managed to get her right hand free from the rope that bound her ankles and wrists together behind her. All she needed was one hand. And for Halina to get close enough. 

“Rowan…Row—” Halina gasped as Rowan forced the image into the dwarf’s head, her hand fingers squeezing tighter about the dwarf's neck and biting into skin. 

Halina was shaking, her hands trembling and jerking as she fought with herself and Rowan, her eyes wide as she slowly removed the blade from Rowan’s leg, and then plunged the knife into her chest, inch by deadly inch. Both Rowan and Halina stared down, each watching as the shiny blade disappeared first into the fabric of Halina’s garment, and then as the crimson stain appeared when the blade finally pierced the skin just at her heart. Halina gave a small gasp, all she could manage as her lung was pierced, but continued plunging the knife further, sinking it into the area where her most vital organs lay. Halina’s eyes met Rowans, terrified. Hopeless and shocked, and then dulled with a sinking realization that nothing could be done about what was happening. Rowan was forcing Halina to kill herself. Rowan pressed harder, mentally, and Halina twisted the knife with her own hand, tearing up her own insides, and forcing a dribble of blood to seep from her parted lips. Halina gasped for air, but found none, as her throat and lungs and heart were all getting clogged. Rowan leaned forward, and pressed her forehead at Halina’s so that their eyes met. 

“Now, it is finished.” 

Rowan watched as the life drained from Halina’s eyes, until finally, there was none left, and the dwarf slumped over Rowan. Blood seeped out from the dwarf’s wound, and dripped from her mouth, staining Rowan’s clothing, turning crimson the clothing on her legs and arms and waist. Not knowing what else to do, and feeling horribly disgusted and nauseous and weak, Rowan started crying as she tried to push Halina’s dead weight off of her. She finally managed to do so, and crawled away, putting some distance between herself and the corpse that was once her friend. 

Rowan sat in the corner of the shed, her eyes on Halina, and started sobbing even harder. Her leg was aching, bleeding like a river, no matter how hard she pressed her weak hand against her wound to staunch the flow. Her blood was mixing with Halina’s, until they both became one and the same, with no telling whose was whose, and she knew this was very, very bad. 

She had never killed anyone in her life.

Her stomach churned with nausea, and her heart ached with pain. Her strength finally gave out, and she fell onto her back in a bloody, beaten mess. Blood from her leg seeped out and soaked the hay under her. As her eyes fluttered closed and vision dimmed, she wondered if she was also dying…

* * *

When Thorin arrived, the area was eerily quiet. Not even a bird, or insects could be heard. He'd ridden like the devil, spurring his horse on until it was foaming at the mouth and covered with sweat. He trotted into the clearing cautiously, his keen ears listening for anything. No noise came from outside the shed, nor the cabin, or the small outhouse on the side. The layout was just as Dazmir had said. A sense of dread permeated the area, and sank into his body, and he was terribly afraid of what he might find should he open any doors. He didn’t care so much for himself for he’d faced death many times before, but none of those here deserved to die. And certainly not Rowan. His heart clenched in his chest at the thought of anything having happened to her. 

He dismounted his fatigued horse, and slowly made his way over to the cabin first. He took some small comfort in the fact that his men, Dwalin and other warriors, were in the woods behind him, out of sight, and ready to move in at a moment’s notice. But, he knew the best way to approach would be alone. That way Halina wouldn’t overreact and hurt Rowan, and hopefully giving him enough time that that he could get close enough to kill the bitch before she knew what was happening. 

“Halina!” He called out as he approached the door to the cabin. No one answered, and he felt dread crawl up his spine. He kicked the door open, but found the house was empty. He turned his attention to the shack at the edge of the small corral. 

“Halina! I’m here! Show yourself!” Thorin called as he made his way over to the shack next. 

* * *

From inside, Rowan perked up at hearing that voice.

_His voice._

He had come for her. At first she smiled that he was here, but then she started panicking, remembering that Dazmir was probably also here, and even though Halina was dead, Thorin was still in danger. She tried to scream, but she was so weak from blood loss, and had no energy to summon her voice. Her legs still bound, and covered in blood and dirt and straw, she crawled over to the door, and pulled it open to warn him.

As she fell outside and into the night, she heard Thorin’s gasp, and then he was there, and she was in his arms….


	47. Chapter 47

“Oh Mahal!” Thorin choked out as he fell to his knees on the ground at the shack entrance, and scooped Rowan’s near-lifeless form up into his arms. He looked over her face, reverently touching any spot that was not bruised, and finding there was so few places he could see that had not been damaged. Her right eye was swollen completely shut, and her left, it was closing rapidly. He pressed a kiss at her forehead, caring not for the blood that stained her skin. He had to feel her skin against his, and wanted her to feel him. He needed to know that she was alive. And he needed her to know that he was here, that he’d come for her, and that he was going to save her. 

“Rowan, darling, please, it’s me. I’ve come for you. I’m here. You’re safe.” He hugged her tight to his chest, trying to get his warmth to cover her. Her arms flopped down limply, and he wanted to cry with anguish. She as so cold and covered with blood. He looked her over, searching for a wound, and his heart thumped painfully when he finally found the gaping hole at her thigh. He pressed his hand against it, trying to staunch the flow, but found the thick, maroon liquid escaped through his fingers. She was bleeding out as he held her. He began panicking. 

“Dwalin!” Thorin yelled, and immediately the area was swarmed with dwarven warriors. Dwalin rushed to the king, his eyes landing on Rowan. 

“Is that her blood?”

“Yes! Get Oin!! And find Halina!” Thorin ordered as he turned his attention back to Rowan. He pulled her closer, whispering soft words into her ear as he caressed her. Wiling her to live, to not let go, to stay with him. Her head lolled at his shoulder, her face so very pale and she looked like she was knocking on death’s door. Thorin’s panic grew. 

“Rowan, look at me!” He shook her awake. “Open your damned eyes and look at me! You cannot leave me, do you understand? I forbid it! Open your eyes and look at me! Witch!!” Thorin screamed in her face, and finally he was rewarded as her one good eye cracked just a sliver, and he saw a tear roll out and trickle down her cheek. He smiled in relief. 

“There you are. There you are,” He rocked her in his arms as if she were a babe. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’s over. I’ve got you. We’re going home now.” He cradled her in his arms, and stood. “I’m going to take you home.” 

_The last thing Rowan remembered was seeing tears as they rolled down Thorin’s tough face, and the overwhelming feeling of being incredibly sad that she’d made him cry…_

* * *

  
Thorin sat at her side, his large hand still holding hers as he watched her sleep. He barely flinched when the door to the room opened, and Dwalin let himself in. 

“How is she?” 

“No change,” came Thorin’s terse reply. His anger with Dwalin grew each minute Rowan slept, and he couldn’t help but blame his longtime friend for the witch’s current predicament. He scowled, openly, when Dwalin took up a seat on the other side. 

Rowan had been sleeping now for two days straight, whereas Thorin had not slept a wink. Between handling the business with Korvath and his daughter, dealing with Dazmir, and cleaning up the mess left behind with Halina, he’d had his hands full. And, he refused to sleep on the off-chance that he’d miss Rowan waking up. 

_If she woke up,_ Tauriel had reminded him. Rowan had lost a lot of blood, and she was not nearly as hardy as the dwarves were, nor was she immortal, despite her long life. He frowned down at her, squeezing her hand in his. He could still lose her. Between one breath and the next, she could slip away from him. It struck him how fragile life was, how fleeting, that no matter how invincible one perceived themselves, it could all be taken away in a flash. 

“Thorin, I am sorry about this. All of this.” Dwalin's voice was thick with regret. 

“You should be!” Thorin hissed, his anger flashing white-hot. Dwalin met Thorin’s glare, accepted it, and then bowed his head. 

“I was doing what I thought right, Thorin.” 

“Leaving her in the hands of a rapist?” The king hissed again as he shook his head. “If you’re going to try and convince me that you had any good intentions towards her, spare me. I don’t want to hear it. You have thought nothing but ill will of her since the day she arrived.” 

Dwalin’s jaw hardened, his own anger bristling at Thorin’s accusation. 

“Aye, you’re right, laddie. I have only ever thought she was a terrible curse to bring down on this already cursed kingdom. But you don’t listen to anyone, as usual. And we are left to clean up your mess. To try and shield you from the worst of it, Balin and I, and the others. We are always the ones left to clean up the mess.” Dwalin gave a humorless smile. “And you're right, brother. If it came down to her or you? I would choose you, a hundred times over, Thorin. You are my brother. My friend. My king. And my duty lies with you. It will always lie with you.” 

“And you knew how I felt about her, and you practically threw her to the wolves!” Thorin snarled. 

“And I knew how you felt about Halla, too, didn't I? And I made the mistake once before of putting your lady before you, Thorin, and look what happened!” Dwalin shot back. Thorin stood and Dwalin did, and before either knew what had happened, Thorin had driven Dwalin back to the far wall, and was holding him with a hand at his throat. 

“Get out of my sight,” Thorin sneered, the disgust on his face clear. 

“Not until I tell you everything.” Dwalin stubbornly clutched at Thorin's forearms. 

“There is nothing you have to say that I want to hear!” Thorin shoved Dwalin away from him, and turned back to Rowan. He was halted in his tracks by what Dwalin had to say next. 

“I caught Halla with that miner, Thorin. The one you executed. In the stables. When you were gone. I caught her, and him, and they were having sex. There was no rape, Thorin. Not from what I saw.” Dwalin’s words were quiet. “And she admitted it to me. And she said she was going to tell you the truth. I believed her when she told me she was going to tell you the truth. And I wanted to tell you Thorin, I did. But it never seemed right, and you wouldn’t listen to any of us. You only saw what you wanted to see.” 

Thorin was stood still, his whole body humming with unease. Dwalin continued speaking to his back. 

“But she told you she was raped, and you believed her. And you had that dwarf executed, Thorin. _An innocent dwarf_.” Dwalin stepped forward. “Thorin, she was lying. She was never raped. The child was not yours. And that miner was innocent.” Dwalin could see that Thorin’s shoulders had drooped, and he saw his king lower his chin to his chest. “I could not make that same mistake and put the witch before you. I could not let it happen again, Thorin. You are my priority. You and this kingdom.” 

“Get out.” Thorin continued walking to Rowan, and took up his seat at her side. He never once looked at Dwalin as he took her hand in his again. 

“Thorin, I—”

“Get out, and do not come back,” Thorin whispered, his eyes on Rowan. “Go. Now. Get out before I kill you.” 

Dwalin quietly let himself out, and Thorin was left alone to his thoughts. The quiet of this room was suffocating, and even focusing on Rowan’s sweet face was no longer enough to satisfy him. He was restless, his nerves frayed, a culmination of today’s events and years of lies finally being laid at his feet for him to sift through. What was true anymore? 

_Thorin’s mind was reeling. _

How could Dwalin have kept so much from him, and for so long? And who else knew? His paranoia crept in, his insecurity with himself as a king and as a dwarf. How to trust those closest to him after keeping such secrets, and for so long? It was impossible. Had he known about this mess with Halla, he would have never proceeded with executing that miner so quickly. He would have never kept Halina around. He would have not carried this damned guilt around for so damned long! And now, he had the death of a miner on his conscience, one who didn’t rightly deserve to die. He released Rowan’s hand, not wanting to crush her fingers in his growing rage. He lowered his head to her bed and pressed his forehead against the sheets, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths. His heart pounded in his ears, the thrumming a desperate tempo that struggled to keep up with his racing thoughts. 

What about Dazmir? He’d wasted no time in executing that dwarf once they’d arrived back. And Dwalin and the rest had stood there as Thorin himself kept his promise made and beheaded the cowering dwarf, and not a one of them – Balin, Dwalin, nor Kili – had said a word in defense of the dwarf. Was he wrong on that front as well? Would he find out years from now that Rowan had lied about that, and he’d put to death another dwarf solely in the misguided name of love? His self-doubt grew, as did the darkness in his countenance. He felt like he was suffocating. 

Deep down, he had known the truth. He knew Halla was lying to him. He had known it from the moment he’d watched her start crying and explaining. He was not that stupid as she and everyone else assumed him to be._ But_, he argued with himself, was it not _his fault for leaving her alone for so long?_ What woman, dwarf, elf, or human, would be content with a husband who was gone for so long and for so often? Could he blame her, truly? So why, then, had he gone along with her lies? Perhaps he was lying to himself, wanting to believe that someone could care for him in that way that he most desperately wanted to be cared for.

Selflessly.

Completely.

_Wholly – mind and body and soul. _

He grimaced at his stupidity. No one ever cared for him like that, and the one time he dared believe it so, it had come with such a heavy string attached. Women all over wanted him for his status and wealth, and Halla was no different. But he loved her, or at least he thought he did. He frowned -_ Didn’t he?_ Was that why he was willing to overlook so much? He grimaced with self-deprecation. He was the fool, not them. His mind twisted as that crawling, lurking paranoia continued to seep into the crevices of his head, tainting and twisting everything he thought he knew. Taunting him. Reminding him of how stupid love could make you, and how wise he’d be to not fall into its trap again. 

He couldn’t allow himself to be so ignorant ever again. His grip on his sanity, and on this kingdom was tenuous at best. His eyes darted to Rowan, and he could feel himself withdrawing from her. How long would it be before she also tired of his schedule, of his responsibility, of his duty to his kingdom? She already doubted him – that she made entirely clear. She didn’t trust him to not hurt her, to not rage at her, to not take his anger out on her. She had leapt on Halina’s story without giving him any benefit of the doubt. What happened when the next row happened, or when the next perceived slight on his part irked her? What then?

And he had hurt Rowan. He had hurt her terribly. More than he'd ever hurt another woman in his life. He was the monster she thought him. How could he profess love when he was capable of doing such terrible things to her, and with his own two hands? He swallowed the lump lodged in his throat, feeling like something he'd desperately wanted and thought he had was being ripped from his grasp. The feeling of loss was almost palpable, the ache in the area of his heart growing like a spreading infection. Perhaps he was incapable of love. Maybe he was not meant to love and be loved, maybe he was supposed to rule alone until such a time came as he stepped down and let someone else take over the throne?

Maybe he was meant to be alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uggghhh I am so annoyed! I really thought we'd get rescued, and lovemaking would ensue, but here we are.
> 
> I apologize, guys :-(


	48. Chapter 48

_Inside her dreams, Rowan was walking along the edge of the lake. The sun was bright above, the warmth of its rays licking at her skin after so long, and she simply could not get enough of it. Birds were chirping off in the distance, a fish jumped from the water. She knelt and ran her fingers through the warmth of the water, her smile growing as the thick liquid drained through her fingers as if it were warmest soup. This place gave her a feeling of extreme laziness, like she wanted to linger for a good long while and just soak up the goodness of it all, but somehow she knew she wasn't to linger here too long. _

_“Rowan.”_

_Rowan stood up, hearing that familiar voice, and when she turned, she saw her mother walking towards her. Rowan broke out into tears, happier than she'd been in a long while, and embraced her mother with a huge smile. _

_“Mama!” _

_“My sweet girl,” Rowan’s mother returned the embrace, and for a moment, the two women just held each other. _

_“How is this possible? Where are we?” Rowan asked as she leaned back to see her mother’s face. Vividly-green eyes peered back at her, their mischievousness so achingly familiar, and Rowan felt herself grow happier by the moment. _

_“We’re in your dream, sweetheart. This is your dream.” Rowan’s mother laced her finger with her daughters, and tugged on her hand. “Walk a ways with me?” _

_“I will never leave your side,” Rowan vowed as she walked alongside her mother. The two stopped at the edge of the lake and sat down on a large piece of driftwood. Rowan watched her mother’s face as she turned towards the lake, the breeze catching her mother’s hair and lifting it in dark waves. Rowan smiled. _

_“I have missed you, Mama. So much.” She squeezed her mother’s hand in hers, and her mother returned the action. _

_“And I you, sweet girl.” She turned her gaze to her daughter. “You seem happy. Different. And so very mature.” _

_“I’m with you, of course I’m happy,” Rowan grinned. _

_“But we can’t stay here forever. It is but a dream, little one.” Her mother brought their clasped hands up to her lips and pressed a kiss at the back of Rowan’s hands. Rowan frowned, something about the action and the words so familiar, though she couldn’t place it. _

_“Where is Daddy? And my sister and brother?” Rowan asked, her voice catching as she realized she couldn’t say their names. It wasn’t that she had forgotten them, for she knew them well, she just couldn’t get the words to form on her tongue for some reason. Her mother smiled. _

_“They are well, sweetness. They are with the rest of our family.” _

_“I want to go to them,” Rowan whispered. She turned to her mother, and tightened her grip on her hand. “Will you take me there?”_

_“No, I’m afraid not. It is not your time.” Rowan’s mother reached out and caressed her daughter’s cheek, and Rowan closed her eyes to savor the feeling. “You have a life in Erebor, one that you must live.”_

_“But I don’t want to be alone,” Rowan felt the tears creep in, felt the knot form in her throat, and she clung tighter to her mother’s hand. _

_“But you aren’t alone, little one.” Rowan opened her eyes to find her mother smiling at her. Her mother’s smile deepened. “Tell me.” _

_Somehow, Rowan instinctively knew what and who her mother was talking about. “I can’t feel his thoughts, Mama. He is the only one who’s thoughts I can’t see. I can see glimpses, but I can’t feel him the way I can others,” Rowan explained. _

_"And that matters, why?" her mother asked._

_"You know why it matters, Mama," Rowan softly retorted. Seeing thoughts was seeing truth. You never had to question what someone felt or thought about you if you could read their thoughts. _

_“What if I told you that was normal? That normal people don't have this ability we have, that they have to muddle through life with nothing more than the word of the one they love? Would that make it easier? And if I told you, it was the same with your father, sweetness. And all the women in our family, when they find their Split-Apart.” At Rowan’s confused look, her mother continued explaining. “The dwarves have their Ones. In our family, we have our Split-Apart. All of us - all races - have words to describe the one we were meant to be with.The other half of our body, of our soul. We spend our whole lives searching for the one that brings us completeness, the missing other half. It is why you can’t influence his thoughts as you do the others.” Rowan’s mother smiled. “Makes sense, really, if you think about it. What good would it be if we could influence the one we love to do our bidding? Wouldn't be fair, would it?”_

_Rowan worried her lip with her finger as she contemplated. “So, you could never influence Father?” _

_“There were times, yes, when I felt more connected to him than anyone in the world,” Rowan’s mother smiled again, this time slyly. “But if only I could all the time! What an easier path we’d have had!” _

_“But I never heard you argue…” Rowan mused quietly. “How is that possible?” She knew about Split-Aparts, though she never gave the idea much credence. It had never seemed to be something she would experience, given her sheltered existence, and to be honest, it had never been something she wanted to experience. She was happy with her simple, uncomplicated life. Was being the operative word. At least until she’d met Thorin Oakenshiled, and he flipped her world upside down, and made her question her every want and every thought…_

_“Are you sure?” Rowan’s mother cast a sideways glance. “Or did you only see what you wanted to see?” _

_“I don’t know. And Thorin can’t possibly be the one I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with. He can be so mean, and hard-headed, and prideful and arrogant….” Rowan scoffed as she stared off into the distance, though she found it hard to maintain that level of anger for very long where he was concerned. And she'd be lying if she didn't admit that the thought of him being someone else's Split Apart made her heart ache in her chest so bad she couldn't breathe. _

_“And?”_

_“He is the most handsome creature I’ve ever seen in my life, Mama.” _

_Her mother giggled. “Looks fade. What else?” _

_“He makes me laugh, so much. He annoys me. I worry about him. He is so strong, and I feel so safe with him. And he is a good dwarf. I know it. Inside he is good. He just needs to allow it to be.” Rowan shrugged. “I don’t know how else to explain it, but he is good. He will be a great king, I know it. And I think a great father.” _

_“He did bad things to you, didn’t he?” _

_“Terrible things,” Rowan nodded, and found herself dashing away a tear that had collected at the edge of her eye. “The worst.”_

_“He hurt you. And somehow, despite all, you’ve fallen in love with him, haven’t you?” _

_“Am I going crazy?” Rowan gave a huff of a laugh. “Who falls in love with a man that beats them, nearly kills them?” _

_“What is your greatest fear?” _

_“That he will hurt me again,” Rowan answered plainly. “Not physically, because I can somewhat understand what happened before, and I don’t see him ever doing that again. And I’m not making excuses for him, but I can understand his motivation. But I fear he will hurt me. Here.” Rowan pressed a finger at the area of her heart. “That he will hurt me here, and I will never recover from it. He's like a fire, and if I get too close to him, he will burn me.” _

_“Then perhaps it’s best if you let him go,” Rowan’s mother decided quietly, causing Rowan to give her a sharp look. _

_“What? What do you mean, let him go?” _

_“Sometimes there is too much in between people for love to work, and in those instances, it is best to let it go. Sometimes there is too much damage.” _

_“But you said he was my Split-Apart,” Rowan reminded. Her brows were drawn together in confusion at her mother’s abrupt change of wisdom, and truthfully, it annoyed her. _

_“I believe he is yours, but that is just a title. Not a life sentence,” Rowan’s mother smiled. “You should never bind yourself to someone who may hurt you.” _

_“Well anyone can hurt anyone!” Rowan scoffed. She was really getting annoyed with her mother’s reasoning. _

_“That’s true,” her mother agreed, and Rowan’s aggravation grew. _

_“If that was the case, no one would be together,” Rowan continued. “We all have the propensity to hurt the ones we love.”_

_“Also true,” her mother agreed again, and this time she stood. “I have to go, Rowan. I’ve stayed too long.” _

_Rowan also stood, her chin trembling. “But why?” She grabbed her mother’s hand to hold on. “Take me with you!” _

_“If I take you, if you come with me, you’ll never see him again.” Her mother’s wise eyes met Rowan’s. “Is that what you want?” _

_Rowan slowly released her mother’s hand, knowing that she wasn’t yet ready to close that door on Thorin. To shut down what might be, for fear of what had been. She took a step back, and tears streamed down her face as she watched her mother disappear before her eyes until she was nothing more than a wisp of smoke, a lingering fog on the edge of the lake._

_Rowan sank down to her knees, rocking herself, her eyes closed as she willed herself to wake up. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone brought up the idea of Split Aparts in the last story, and it just seemed so sweet, I wanted to use it. I hope it makes sense. And I was like, I'm not doing this dream stuff again, but here I am. Ugghhh. I just wish for once I could write a nice like 35 chapter story that ends with happily ever after, and one day I may, but it is not this day. Obviously. 
> 
> Thank you for all of you that are still reading after so many chapters. As you can see, we still have a ways to go if these two are ever going to get their happily ever after.


	49. Chapter 49

Rowan blinked, or tried to, and became panicked when she realized she could only see out of one eye. It was painful to try and lift the other eyelid, and so she stopped. She tried to sit up, but was quickly held back down by a heavy hand at her shoulder. 

“I don’t think so, Ro!” Kili’s voice came into her awareness, stern and yet still somehow playful. 

The dark-haired dwarf leaned over her, grinning as he stared down into her face. 

“Kili?” 

“At your service,” he chuckled. “How do you feel?” 

“Like I died,” Rowan groaned as her body screamed at the slightest movement. Her whole body ached. She dared turn her head to look around, and saw that she was in Thorin’s room. _Thorin._

“Where’s Thorin? Is he alright? Kili! Where’s Thorin?” 

“Relax! He’s fine. He’s asleep, right there next to you,” Kili nodded to her left, and Rowan did her best to roll her head so that she could see. The king was indeed there, next to her in the bed, his arms wrapped around himself as he slept. “He’s not left your side these past three days, and he is only just now fallen asleep. He’s exhausted, and I think you should let him be.” 

Rowan reached out, not caring that her body protested so strongly, and pressed a hand at his back. She felt immediate relief when his warmth met her palm. His breathing was even, steady and strong, and she felt at ease. She relaxed back into the pillow, her hand still resting against Thorin as her eyes met Kili’s again. 

“What happened? I only have bits and pieces of memory after…after Halina…after she…” Rowan closed her eyes to ward off the images, and took in a shaky breath. Kili caressed her swollen cheek, gently, and shushed her. 

“Just relax. We can talk about all that later.” He reached over and grabbed a cup. “Right now, you need to drink these meds. Tauriel made them, just for you. She said it will help with your pain, and will bring the swelling down.” He warily eyed her leg. “And fight off any nasty infection that may sneak up on you.” 

Rowan did as he asked, and for a few moments, they sat quietly, until Rowan’s stomach growled rather loudly, and Kili informed her he was going to fetch her some real food. 

When Kili had gone, Rowan turned again to Thorin. He was still there, still sleeping, curled in on himself. He must be tired, as she knew dwarves had impeccable hearing, so for him to not wake up during her conversation with Kili, it definitely said something about his physical state. She painfully scooted as much as she could manage, getting as close to him as she could, and nuzzled into his back. She needed him. Needed his warmth, and needed the reassurance that she was okay and that he was okay, and that they would be okay together. She gingerly turned over, as much as she dared and as much as she could manage, and draped an arm over his side so that she could hug him. She was thankful that her wounded leg was on the outside at least. Her nose was pressed against his back, and before too long, the medicine kicked in, and Rowan drifted off, finally into a peaceful slumber, with Thorin at her side. 

Kili found them like that, and instead of waking her, he simply set the tray of food down on the small table, and exited the room with a smile. 

* * *

Thorin woke some time later, and sleepily frowned down at his chest. There was a hand there, tucked under his armpit and clutching at his shoulder. He slowly moved so that he could lay on his back, and his face melted into a smile when he saw that it was Rowan behind him. He lifted his arm from her, and carefully pulled her up so that she was resting on his chest, and pressed a kiss at her forehead, relishing the smell of her. The smell of life, and the warmth of her skin against his lips. She was safe and sound, here with him. He hugged her, gently, not wanting to jostle her, for he knew she was still in pain. 

“You came for me.” Her voice was small, tired, her words slurred with the medicine coursing through her blood, but he knew that she was awake. She was alive. Thank Mahal.

“Aye,” Thorin answered. He wanted to tell her he would have died for her, but that seemed too personal. Much too great an offering, and so he withheld. 

She softly squeezed him. “I love you.” There was so much more she wanted to say, but found she didn’t have the strength to do so. Frustrated, she realized the conversation about her mother, and Thorin being her _Split-Apart_ would have to wait until she’d regained some strength. For now, she would be content with holding him. 

Thorin felt his heart clench in his chest at hearing those desperately wanted words from her, but he found he could not return them. He pressed another kiss at her forehead. “Get some rest, little one.”

“Will you be here when I wake? I’m so tired. And I want to sleep—” Rowan yawned into his neck. “But I don’t want to miss you.” Her hand weakly grasped at his neck. 

“I will be here. Now sleep, sweetheart. Don’t worry about anything.” Another kiss. “Just sleep.” He cupped her hand in his, and held her, long into the night. 

* * *

When she woke the next day, Thorin was gone, and in his place was Balin, sat at the side of her bed. _She wasn’t awake enough to be upset that he was gone from her side just yet…_

“How are you, lassie?” 

“Oh Balin!” Rowan cried as she reached for the older dwarf. He moved in to her embrace, and they hugged for some time. “I am so glad to see you!!”

“And I you,” the old dwarf rejoined, and Rowan saw that he discreetly wiped at his eyes. 

“Don’t cry, or I’ll start crying too!” she gently chastised. She sat back on the bed, adjusting herself more comfortably. “Where’s Thorin?” 

“Oh, he had work that needed to be done, so he left me in his stead,” Balin explained. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes though, and a part of Rowan wondered about it. She forced a smile instead. Focus on the positive. Thorin was working, was all. 

“Well, please tell him I’m really annoyed that he wasn’t here when I woke up!” 

“Will do, lassie!” 

And so, that was how the conversation went for the next few days: Thorin would come in just when Rowan had taken her medicine, and remain just long enough for her to catch a glimpse of him before he was gone again, citing one excuse after the next. Each time, the medicine won out, and she fell asleep before she could argue with him about his steadily-growing absence. Each morning, it was the same: either Balin, or one of the other dwarves were there to help her with breakfast and medicine-taking, but it was never Thorin. By the end of the week, Rowan was able to move about on her own, though she walked with a cane to aid in the healing of her leg. And it was her newfound mobility that allowed her to go and seek out Thorin after hearing from a maid that he was indeed in the city, and was last seen helping down at the forges. She snuck out after Balin’s evening visit, much to the chagrin of the gates on guard at her door. She stiffly reminded them that she was not a prisoner, and was in fact, with the king, so they'd do well to leave her alone. Her false bravado won out, and they let her pass. 

She followed the corridors down, each set of stairs taking her deeper into the bowels of Erebor, each step bringing her closer to the flames of the great forges that she knew were lit at all times of the day. It would seem the mountain would grow colder the deeper she got, but quite the opposite was true here in Erebor: it got hotter and hotter as the heat from the forges spread up the stairs and through the halls, and before long, Rowan was sweating, both from the forges and from exertion. More times than she cared to admit, she had to slow down and catch her breath, and she knew that coming this far down was a bad idea. And, there was the very real possibility that Thorin wasn’t even down here, despite what the maid had said. She pushed that annoying thought away.

“Thorin?” Rowan hobbled down the remainder of the stairs until she’d found herself at the bottom of the great forges, and out of breath, leaned up against the wall to take a break. Even the stone wall was warm, and she found no respite from the oppressive heat. It was this part of the mountain that she, being a person of sunlight and fresh air, would never, ever get used to. The clanging stopped, and she knew she’d found him. “Thorin?” she called again into the darkness, louder this time, and she took another step in the direction that the noise had come from. 

“Why are you out of bed?” Blue eyes glinted in the dark as Thorin came forward, and Rowan felt her breath catch at the sight of him:

Shirtless, his hair pulled back into a thick ponytail that rested messily between his wide shoulder blades. A thick sheen of sweat coated his tanned skin, his muscles strained and rigid from the work he’d been doing. Rowan ached to reach out and push back that dark, wet tendril of hair that was stuck to his forehead, so out of place and out of character for the normally regal looking king. The king shifted on his feet, lifting the rudimentary sword he was crafting and resting the cool part on his shoulder. The action caused his muscles to bunch and shift under his skin, and the veins in his forearms popped out with the effort. 

“I was looking for you.” Rowan licked at her lips, suddenly feeling incredibly parched. Thorin eyed her for just a minute longer before he turned back to the bucket of water and shoved the still-burning, hot blade into the water. The blade let out an angry hiss as it’s fire was quickly extinguished. Rowan watched him, the dwarf that she loved, and she felt happy. Her mother’s words rang in her head, and she smiled, making an effort to not launch herself into his arms and tell him the great news; Something was off about him, but she couldn’t put her finger on it just yet.

“You should be in bed. Resting.” He took up his stance in front of the anvil and dealt another heavy blow to the blade he was working. Behind him, Rowan watched the play of muscles in his back, but even that could not distract her from the very real feeling of dejection he’d just projected her way. He’d literally turned his back on her. She doggedly limped closer. 

“I haven’t seen you in over a week, except for brief moments. And I can’t help but feel like you’re avoiding me. Are you?” She accused, and she knew she’d struck truth when Thorin’s shoulders tensed and his hammer didn’t drop again. “Thorin, why?” 

“Please, Rowan, go back to bed. Now is not the time.” 

Rowan’s breath lodged in her throat. “You called me by my first name. You never do that,” her eyes had narrowed in suspicion. “And now, you sound defeated, when any other time you’d be ordering me about, or trying to fight. But now, you just sound resigned. Why?”

Thorin turned around, and looked at a spot over her head, his jaw tense. “Go back upstairs, or I will take you myself.”

“No,” Rowan lifted her chin stubbornly. With an annoyed sigh, Thorin carelessly dropped the blade on the ground, and walked over to her and scooped her up as if she weighed nothing. She yelped when he moved her in the wrong direction, the stitches in her thigh screaming as they were pulled, and the king immediately stilled. 

“What is it? Are you hurt?” His blue eyes searched her face, and then her body, before meeting her eyes again. “Rowan?” 

“It’s nothing,” she sniffed. He frowned. 

“It’s not nothing. Tell me where it hurts.” Thorin looked down at her body once more, his eyes focused on her leg. “Is it the stitches?” 

“Let me go, Thorin,” Rowan sniffed again. “Put me down.” 

“No, I’ll just carry you back up, and—”

Rowan pushed at his chest, wiggling until she’d freed herself from him, and with the clumsy effort of her trying to escape and him trying to prevent it, she fell back in a heap on the floor. Her hands flew to her wounded leg, and frustrated, and in immense pain, she started crying. Thorin dropped down at her side, his hands hovering above her leg, but she slapped him away so that he was forced back on his haunches. His face was a mask of worry, and Rowan was beyond aggravated. 

“Get away from me!” she hissed. “Don’t pretend to care now, when two seconds ago you were throwing me out of your stupid forges.” She slapped his hand away again as she struggled to her feet. Finally, she did so, her one hand clutching the walking cane, and the other holding the wall for support. Thorin stared back at her, still knelt at the ground, his blue eyes haunted, and lips parted. He looked indecisive, at war with himself internally, and Rowan wanted to scream with frustration. 

“What now, Thorin? What happened now that you aren’t telling me?” She spat in his direction, and Thorin rocked back on his heels slightly as he finally rose to his feet. The longer he stood there, and the longer he remained silent, the more aggravated she got. At first, she felt anger and rage, and then sadness, and finally hopelessness. Sheer, unrelenting hopelessness. Moments passed between them, heavy with the unsaid and unresolved. Despite not wanting it to be so, her emotions overwhelmed her, and she felt her eyes overflowing with tears again. 

“I almost died! Do you realize that?” Now she was really crying. Sobbing, openly, honestly, painfully. “Do you even care?”

“Please don’t cry. I can’t bear it, Rowan. Please.” He reached for her and again she slapped him away. 

“Don’t pretend to care.” She repeated as she turned and started making her way up the stairs, one painful limp at a time. She hesitated, and turned back to Thorin, and this time, the look on her face was enough to break the dwarf’s heart right in two. “I knew my mother was wrong. I knew she was mistaken about you, and even though I knew it, I wanted to pretend otherwise.” Her bleary eyes met Thorin’s. “I wanted to believe her.” 

“What do you mean, your mother?” Thorin asked quietly as he stepped towards her. 

“She came to me in my dreams, and she said you were my _Split-Apart,_” Rowan huffed out a laugh. “And I believed her, and I chose to stay here with you, rather than go with her.” Her voice hitched. “I could have gone with my mother, and been free of this wretched place, but I chose you over them. Over my family.” 

“Rowan…” Thorin reached for her again, and again she denied him. 

“I told her you were mean, and arrogant, and hard-headed, and that I knew you would hurt me. I knew it.” Rowan dashed the back of her hand over her face to wipe away the tears that were clouding her vision. “I knew you would, and still, I chose this over that. I chose you over them.” 

“You do not know everything,” was all Thorin replied with. 

“I know enough,” Rowan returned. And with that, she started back up the stairs.

This time, Thorin didn’t try to follow. 

* * *

She moved out of his room that day, and when the king returned from working himself into utter exhaustion, he wanted to go to her old room where she was now housed and order her back, but he knew he could not. He had no place telling her what to do, when it was his actions –_ and his inaction_ – that had forced her hand. He knew that she was justified. He knew he deserved her anger. And ultimately, above all else, _he knew he did not deserve her_.

_Remember what you did to her,_ the voices reminded him. 

He was a weak leader. A weak dwarf. A weak king. 

**He was weak. Love made you weak. Made you careless. **

_**Insane. **_The voices chanted in the crevices of his head**..._a sickness... an inescapable strain of madness_...**

He had been weak before, and look at how that turned out. His demons reminded him of his failures, of his responsibility. He'd loved someone before, and he'd eaten up every lie she'd ever given him with no care for outside opinion, and look at the outcome. Who could he trust? His most loyal friend had lied to him for years. The paranoia crept around the edges of his thoughts, a lurking beast that made him doubt everyone and everything. Reminded him of his shortcomings, of all the terrible decisions he'd made from an emotional standpoint. Of how terrible his judgement was, how faulty it was. His emotions were not trustworthy. _He was not trustworthy._ He was weak and unreliable in matters of the heart, and he could not go through that again. He could not afford to be so blind again, not when he'd already lost so much, and still had so much more to lose. Rowan would understand. She would have to. 

One day she would realize this was the right decision that he’d made…_ for both of them._


	50. Chapter 50

In the following weeks, Rowan would waver in-between feeling supremely proud for doing what needed to be done insofar as taking care of herself, and then, in the very next breath, feeling as if she had done the most terrible of things by taking someone’s life - _Even if it was someone who was crazy and evil and intent on killing her._ If someone would’ve told her months, weeks, or even days prior that she would have to take someone’s life in order to spare hers –_and possibly save the one she loved_– she would have laughed in their face. Killing was not something Rowan was ever going to be comfortable with, and the nightmares she continued to have, the ones where she saw the life draining out of Halina’s eyes - were a testament to the fact that what she had done did not sit well with her soul. Not at all. As it were, she barely survived on small increments of sleep, never allowing herself to dip too deep into slumber for fear of waking up in another one of those dreams. Thirty minutes here, sometimes an hour, but never enough to fall into the deep sleep where nightmares festered, at least if she could avoid it. 

A part of her wished desperately that she’d taken her mother’s hand, and gone on to wherever it was her mother was going, though she couldn’t, even at this point, determine whether her mother coming to her in her dream was real or not, or if it was just another fracturing of her sanity as she struggled to cope with what she’d done and all that she’d seen. Erebor had been nothing but harsh reality since the day she’d arrived, and it was hard to find any place that felt safe enough for her to relax. Even Kili and Balin, the ones she was closest too, felt so far away from her. No matter how often she met with either of them, it never felt safe, and she always felt like she was existing in some other dimension, not quite present, but not quite absent. Just sort of existing…

And now, Thorin had turned from her, and for whatever reason that she still couldn’t work out in her mind. 

She’d gone over it all in her head, over and over, examining every word they’d spoken to each other, and dissecting every look they’d shared, and she still couldn’t reconcile why Thorin was behaving the way he was towards her. Had they not spent a very good few days together, that culminated in the most obscenely intimate act she’d ever participated with a man, only the day before she’d talked with Halina? Yes, she’d accused him of things after her discussion with Halina, but Thorin had come for her, had he not? And it was despite her feeling like he wouldn’t after she’d accused him and sided with Halina. He’d held her, and stayed with her, according to Kili and Balin; Had never left her side, or so they said. So, what, she puzzled, had changed? Was it because she’d killed Halina? Was it the accusation she’d lodged against him? Was what she’d done and said, were they unforgivable in his eyes? What was it?

She simply did not know. 

And she never had a chance to ask him, because he was gone each time she’d broken down, and approached his room to knock, and he came back long after she’d retired in the evenings. She caught the occasional sight of him in the dining hall, or out about the grounds, but it was never more than a fleeting glimpse, and when her eyes met his, he was always the first to look away. It was infuriating and heartbreaking, and she didn’t know which was the worse feeling of the two. She wanted to leave the royal wing, to move back to her home in the common area, but it was near Halina’s former home, and she wasn’t ready for that. She wasn’t ready to go back to that life where she spent her time healing and helping, pretending that she was doing good things. She just wasn’t ready. And so she felt trapped, with no way out, and it was tiring. Exhausting. The situation with Thorin was just added salt to her wound. She needed him now more than ever, and the sting of rejection burned in her heart just as if she’d been caught on fire. 

As she did most days, she slowly made her way down to the stables, no longer using her walking stick, though she still moved with a slight limp. Her leg, while superficially healed, still bore a huge scar, and the muscles would take even longer to repair on the inside. She’d been spending more time in the stables, an effort to keep her mind busy as she tried to keep herself from dwelling on Thorin and her lack of sleep, but even she knew she was headed for exhaustion if she didn’t get a grip on things. 

She was to meet Kili down here today, and they were going to take Cocoa, the little filly out to work in the corral in preparation for getting her used to a bit and riding gear. As she turned the corner, she saw Dwalin waiting at the stable door, and not Kili, and her first instinct was to turn around and leave, for she had no desire to speak with this surly dwarven warrior who was so close to Thorin and hated her so much. Unfortunately, he heard her approach, and turned, giving her no escape. 

“I would speak to you, witch,” Dwalin stated softly, his gaze meeting hers. 

“I’m busy.” Rowan looked around. “And I’m supposed to meet Kili.”

“I’ve already sent him away. And I need to speak to you. About Thorin,” Dwalin rejoined, and that got her attention, even though she wished it otherwise. 

Her expression was grim with unease. “What’s he done now?”

“Are you unwell?” Dwalin asked, taking note of her pale complexion, the deep circles under her eyes, and tired appearance. Rowan scowled at his blatant perusal of her face. 

“I’m fine. What about Thorin?” 

“He loves you.” Dwalin said the words out loud, hoping to get some reaction from her that would tell him he was on the right path. 

Three simple words, uttered by the most hardened of dwarfs, and Rowan was rendered speechless. Her heart had stuttered in her chest at hearing those words, but whatever happiness she might have felt was quickly overturned with anger at Thorin. He loved her? What a cruel joke. Her cheeks rose with angry color, and her lips pressed as she fumed. Thorin was not capable of any love she was familiar with.

“Sit down, let me explain,” Dwalin continued. Rowan sat on a nearby bale of hay, while Dwalin paced. “Just let me tell you everything and then you decide how to proceed. Have we a deal?” 

“Go on.” 

“I saw you there, witch, with Dazmir. I followed you when you left, not knowing where you were going, but hoping it would lead me to him somehow.” Dwalin rubbed a hand at his beard. “I had no idea the danger I was leaving you in, truly, but you must understand, I did not care for you then. Not like the others. And certainly not like he does.” 

Rowan nodded. “Fair enough.” 

“So, you must understand that my first inclination was to report back to Thorin of Dazmir’s whereabouts, not mount a rescue for a girl that I believed was no good for my brother.” Dwalin continued pacing. “Besides, if I had gone in, and it was an ambush, Thorin would have never known anything.” 

“So, you left me there to come back and tell him,” Rowan snapped. “What then?” 

“He was furious with me. I think he wanted to kill me himself.” Dwalin huffed out a humorless laugh. “He probably would have if you’d not been returned alive.” 

Rowan sat in her thoughts, the fear and terror creeping back up her spine as she remembered being held in that place. Her fear over Thorin, and if he should be injured. The fight with Halina. How scared she was of Dazmir. Halina dying at her hands. She shuddered. 

“And then, when you’d been brought back, I told him the truth about Halla.” Dwalin’s gaze met Rowan’s. “The whole truth that I showed you. The lies, the deceit. The secret I kept from him about her consort. I told him all of it.” 

“And?”

“Just as I feared, it has destroyed our friendship. I see him, the way his mind works. His thoughts are jumbled. He doesn’t trust. Me, you, or anyone else.” Dwalin tucked his hands at his armpits. “I know that he’s turned you away. Why do you think that is?”

“He’s an idiot,” Rowan shrugged, fighting back tears at her own insecurity. “I don’t understand him, or why he does the things he does. He won’t talk to me.” 

“He’s always been suspicious, lassie. We all are. It’s something inherent in our nature as dwarves.” Dwalin sat down next to her, and Rowan scooted away from him. “But he loves you. He cares for you. And he is fighting with himself to admit that. To own that. I saw it, when he found you that day with Halina. I have never seen him more terrified than he was that day when he thought he might lose you.” 

Rowan’s thoughts were jumbled in her head, and she was desperately trying to piece together all the points the dwarf was making, and all the things that had happened since she’d been back. Thorin's behavior made no sense, and it was hard for her to see any good of it. If he wanted her, why did he continually push her away? 

“We were making progress, Dwalin. I thought we had moved past all of the things before, and that we cared for each other.” She couldn’t bring herself to say love. She was embarrassed that she’d even uttered those words to Thorin. What a fool she was. A stupid naive fool. 

“Do you love him?” Dwalin turned his gaze on her. Rowan swallowed her anger and sadness so that she could speak, her lips scrunched with derision. 

“Maybe. But I also hate him. So obviously, I don’t know what love is.” Rowan couldn’t hide the twisting of her lips, or the way her chin trembled when she thought about her feelings for the dwarf king. She brushed away the moisture that was pooling at the corner of her eyes, refusing to let this dwarf see her so sad. 

Dwalin gave a short laugh. He'd seen all he needed to see.

“And I don’t find any of it funny,” Rowan grumbled. 

“I told him about Halla while you were sick. I told him all. And I saw in his eyes the moment it happened: he started doubting you, and me, and everyone else. But most of all, he started doubting himself. His ability to care for you and for this kingdom, and to be responsible for both at the same time.” Dwalin sighed. “It was me that messed this up for you and for him, and all of us, and it is my hope that by talking to you now, that I can somehow help mend some of it.” 

“But why would he doubt us after talking to you?” Rowan asked. “What does one have to do with the other?” She remembered that day in her home when she’d accused him of all the terrible things Halina had said, how she’d doubted Thorin, and she felt shame at having believed it all without giving him a chance to explain. Dwalin continued talking, but Rowan was now only half-listening as her own self-doubts began swirling about. Was she to blame for this rift between them?

“It shouldn’t matter in the slightest, but it’s Thorin, lass. He gets an idea in his head, and goes with it. You have no idea how stubborn he can be. No bloody idea.” 

Rowan snorted. “Oh, I think I have a good enough idea of how pigheaded he is. What do you want me to do now with all of this?”

“Do what you want to,” Dwalin crossed his arms over his broad chest. “But mark my words, if you want to be with him as much as I will assume you do, it will be you that will have to make him see the error of his ways. It will not be an easy task, mind you. The lad is so wrapped up in his own twisted thoughts that he will not see reason where anyone else is concerned.” 

“I have tried to talk to him, tried to explain, and he doesn’t listen to me. I went down to the forges a week back, and tried to talk to him, and he shut me out. I don’t know why he is acting the way he is.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “And to be honest, I don’t know if I want to fight with him anymore. I am so tired, Dwalin. You have no idea how… tired I am.” She wanted to say that she was broken, and that she felt disgust down in her soul, but she settled for tired. It was a safer admission. 

Dwalin sat in silence for a moment, and then spoke again. “You did what you had to do, lassie. What needed to be done, and no one will fault you for that. You did a brave thing. Never doubt yourself.” 

“I took someone’s life,” Rowan whispered. The lump in her throat was preventing actual words from flowing, and she didn’t even realize how badly her hands were shaking as she dug her fingers into the area above her knees. She hadn’t realized until this very moment how badly she needed to get this off of her chest, but it didn’t feel any better after doing so. In fact, she felt like she’d pulled a scab off an almost-healed wound, and it stung. 

“She would have killed you, and Thorin. And all of us. Korvath and his daughter. You did what needed to be done. Never doubt that.” 

Rowan had heard enough. Her head was pounding in tune to the thrumming of her heart, adrenaline pumping through her body, competing with her exhaustion, and she was beginning to feel ill. Her head hurt so bad, and her body was tired, and Eru how she wanted to sleep forever. 

“Just stop!! Stop saying all of this! Nothing you say is making me feel any better! I’m sorry I’m not a cold-blooded killer like you all are!” Rowan hissed angrily. She swiped at her face, annoyed that she was crying in front of Dwalin of all people, and stood up. The dwarf reached out to grab her by her forearm, but just as soon as he’d touched her, he let go. 

“If you dwell on it, it will eat you alive, witch.” The dwarf also stood. “You have to understand that what you did was the right thing, no matter how distasteful it was.”

“I need to go. I’m tired of this and you and him and all of you! Just leave me alone, all of you.” With that, Rowan stomped away, walking to where she knew not.

Eventually she wound up near the mouth of the river as it burst from the mountainside, her intent to find some quiet place to seek solace, away from the prying eyes of those idiotic guards that kept following her. She had managed to slip them, but only did so by sneaking out of a hidden passage that she'd found by accident, a small tunnel carved in the wall by either dwarves, or made by the river, she knew not. Even with eluding them, she knew it was only a matter of time before they found her, and so she did her best to remain unseen as she moved along the river's edge and sought out the perfect spot. She found one, right past the river's first bend, but she was annoyed to see there were families there. Washing clothes, enjoying the unseasonable warmth of a summer’s day as they splashed in the still-cold river, and minding their own business. They did not deserve her ire. She gave tense smiles to those she knew, and when they approached, she quickly waved them off, citing that she was unwell. She continued moving a bit further, until finally she found a small spot underneath a tree where she could sit in relative silence. She lay back in the sunshine, allowing the rays of heat to warm her cold skin, and at some point, while curled up in the grass, she finally drifted off to sleep.


	51. Chapter 51

“Where is she?” Thorin roared to no one in particular.

It was late in the evening, and Rowan had not been seen since early this morning. Even though he didn’t speak to her as of late, he kept a tight watch on her by way of guards, and he knew at all times of the day where she was. At all times. Except for today. When he’d returned from his ride around the perimeter, he’d been alerted that Rowan had not been seen since early morn, and now, as night fell across Erebor, he couldn’t hide the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that she was gone. Or worse, that something had happened to her. 

The last person that had spoken with her was Dwalin, by his own admission. He cut angry eyes at his so-called friend. The rift between them stretched even further.

“What did you say to her?” 

Dwalin stepped closer so that he could speak softly. “We spoke of you and her, and all that I told you about Halla. I swear it, Thorin. I did not say anything to her that would cause her to leave!” 

“It seems you are always at the center of dealings with her, and thus far, they never end well!” Thorin snapped as he jammed a finger in Dwalin’s chest. The slightly larger dwarf did not back down, and instead, moved in closer. 

“She was upset, Thorin. About what happened with Halina. And she did not look well. Not at all.” 

“And yet you let her out of your sight again?” Thorin accused. 

“I cannot touch her like you can, brother. I couldn’t hold her here if I wanted to!”

Thorin raised his hand, his finger pointed again in Dwalin’s face, when the door was pounded upon. 

“Enter!” Thorin yelled, and the door swung open. Two guards stepped in. 

“We’ve found her, my lord. She was asleep under a tree near the river’s mouth.”

“Outside the gates?” Thorin’s face paled as he sat down in his chair. The guards nodded that yes, he was correct. “Where is she now?” 

“She is in her room, my lord.” The one guard shuffled on his feet. “She was very angry that we’d woken her up, and she threatened us all, my king!” 

Despite his foul mood, Thorin couldn’t hide his smirk at that. He waved the two guards away, and they exited. Then it was just Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin. The king soured again, and it was Dwalin who spoke. 

“You need to go to her, Thorin. The girl is not well.” 

“Do not tell me my place, master dwarf. I am fully capable of handling her.” Thorin glowered at the door. Dwalin was unconcerned with the king’s response, and continued. 

“That may very well be, but she is not doing well after killing Halina. I spoke to her myself, Thorin. This very morn, that is what we spoke about! And she is not handling it well. Not at all!” 

Feeling the prickle of unease run up his spine, Thorin looked at his friend. “She told you that?”

“She didn’t have to, Thorin. I can see it in her eyes. I could hear it in her voice.” Dwalin softened. “She needs you, Thorin. You are the only one that can help her, and she is alone in this.” 

* * *

Thorin sat long into the night after Dwalin and Balin had left, his thoughts never straying far from her. She was feet away from him, but it felt like miles the distance that stretched ever wider between them. He wanted to go to her, to fall on his knees and tell her he was sorry, to say that he loved her, and that he wanted her to love him in return, but something stopped him.

_Was it pride? _

_Hurt? _

_Her disbelief in him?_

_Or was it as he feared, his disbelief in his ability to love her and take care of his responsibility to Erebor, and ability to do it all at the same time? _

He had no idea what was holding him back so tight that it felt as if he’d had chains strapped to his legs and arms. When he thought he might lose her, he felt his heart nearly crack in two at just the thought of going through this life without her. It was but a tiny taste of his feelings that he’d had for Halla, and the moment when he saw her bleeding out in his arms hurt more than when he’d lost Fili. What would he do if she really died? Ashamed, he cupped his mouth with his hand. How could he admit that? That this girl, this witch, had wormed her way so deep into his heart that he would give up the whole of Erebor just to have her safe and in his arms? 

It was unfathomable. It was wrong. It was exactly what he knew would happen should he entertain his emotions for her, and it’s why he couldn’t. 

He was not capable of doing both, for one would surely suffer for the other. 

His eyes landed on her necklace, the chain glittering in the firelight from it’s position atop his desk. He’d been carrying it in his pocket ever since Dazmir had brought it back, his intent to give it back to her, but he’d never found the right moment. He pulled the chain to him, frowning at the broken clasp. He needed to fix it for her, and give it back. He gathered the necklace up and stood, his intention to go to his forging room so that he could repair the clasp. 

He wasn’t even aware that his feet carried him to her door, and he was as shocked as she probably was when he found himself pounding on her door. 

“Go away!” Rowan flung a pillow at the door as she turned back to the view from her window. She was sat on the wide ledge of her window sill, a small blanket wrapped around her as she hugged herself tightly. She didn’t hear the door open. 

“Rowan, it’s me.” 

She looked up, stiffening as she heard his voice after so many days. She forced herself not to turn and look at him, and even more importantly, denied the inclination to launch herself into his arms. 

“What do you want?”

“I was worried about you. You went missing.” Thorin explained as he came closer, his heart pounding in his chest. _ I love you, please forgive me, I’m sorry__._ “Are you sick?” 

“Do you care?” 

“Of course, I care. Come down from there. These windows are old, you’ll catch a fever.” _And I will die if you ever get hurt again_. Thorin swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Rowan stated softly. She looked over her shoulder, saw he was only feet away, and her heart hurt. “And you don’t care about me, so go away.”

Silence stretched between them. Rowan looked back out her window. 

“How do you do it, Thorin?” 

“Do what?” 

“Kill so easily. Hurt people, and then sleep at night as if you’d done naught wrong.” Rowan’s voice caught. “How do you do it and go on about your day as if you’d not done the worst possible thing?”

“I tell myself they deserve it,” Thorin answered honestly. He was now less than a foot away. “I remind myself that they would have killed me, or someone I cared about, and for me, that’s enough. I do what I have to do.” 

“Do you think Halina was wrong? Her feelings on you and her sister and her family? Do you think she was wrong to feel that way?” Rowan leaned her forehead against the glass pane, relishing the coldness against her heated skin. The lights in the city twinkled, and she wondered again about moving to Dale, and if life would be easier there. Less complicated than it was here. 

“I do, aye.” 

“I think she had every reason to hate you, and her father.” Rowan whispered. “I think she had every reason, and if she’d just been talked to, she could have seen an alternative, and perhaps she would have not acted so irrationally. Perhaps…maybe…she’d still be alive and none of this would have happened.” 

“She would have killed you, Rowan. And Korvath and his daughter. And me.” Thorin reached out and tugged at her hand. His fingers tingled when he touched her, and he desperately wanted to pull her down and into his arms, but it was short-lived; Rowan pulled away, tucking her hand under the blanket and away from him. “Rowan, please come down from there. Let’s talk, you and me. Please.” 

Rowan snorted. _“Now he wants to talk._ Did you kill Dazmir?”

“Aye.” 

“Why?” Rowan continued staring out the window. “He confessed, and in a way, he helped me.”

“He had shown his true nature, Rowan. I could not take the chance that he’d hurt you again. You, or anyone else. Executing him was the right thing to do.” Thorin countered softly. 

“He took my necklace,” Rowan whispered as she remembered. “And I thought, when he reached for me, that he was going to kill me. He pulled out his knife, Thorin, and I felt like I was back in his head in the stables, and he reached for me, and I thought….oh—” Rowan broke down, her eyes overflowing with tears as the fear overwhelmed her, and then Thorin was there, pulling her down from the windowsill and cradling her in his arms. She fought against him at first, struggling weakly, for she had no strength, and then she just gave up. He carried her to a nearby chair and sat as he cradled her on his lap. Rowan cried into his neck, her shoulders shaking with her sobs. 

“I’m here, sweetness. You’re alright. Everything is alright.” He wanted to reach in his pocket and give her back her necklace, but like them, it was still broken, and so he hesitated. 

“Why are you like this, Thorin? You are here, but you’re not. You’re this close, but still so far away. I thought you cared about me? Were you pretending?” Rowan cried at his neck. “Why did you come for me if you’re only going to deny me?” 

“I can’t stand to see you hurt,” Thorin hoarsely answered, and Rowan stiffened in his arms. He braced himself for her words. 

“Can’t you see that you are the one that has hurt me more than anyone? That all you do is continually hurt me, over and over?” She sniffled. “And you never try and fix anything, Thorin. Not with me.” 

“I wish I could explain things in a way that you would understand. It is not my intention to hurt you. I only want you safe. I have to keep you safe.” Thorin’s words sounded foreign to his ears. How could he claim that when it was true what she accused him of? All he ever did was hurt her it seemed. He knew it, and so did she. 

“Let me up.” Rowan pushed at his chest, and he opened his arms, allowing her to leave his lap. She pulled the blanket up and around her shoulders as she walked to her bed. “Get out. Leave me alone.” 

She crawled into her bed, and covered her face with the blanket. Hot, silent tears rolled down her cheeks, burning her skin and making her heart ache. The bed dipped, and she knew he was there, and she blindly kicked at him to get him away. She screamed at him to get out, over and over, until finally he was gone. The door closed behind him, and then there was silence. 


	52. Chapter 52

Rowan was muttering something unintelligible as she came to stand next to Dwalin at the fence that held the war rams. The dwarf tossed a curious look in her direction, and said nothing at first. She didn’t speak to him and he didn’t want to incur her wrath. Not yet, at least. 

It was three days after he’d had the discussion with her about Thorin, just a few feet from where they were currently standing, and he wondered what was going on in that head of hers. Had she mulled over his words, taken them into consideration? Or was she giving up? Dwalin didn’t know, and he’d not heard anything from Thorin, of course, although he knew that the king had gone to confront her. Thorin’s mood was never pleasant as of late, and after his talk with Rowan, he was even worse. Rowan seemed not much better, with dark circles under her eyes and a frown etched across her face. He watched her from the corner of his eye, wondering what she was up to. She looped her hands through the metal of the fence gate and watched the rams.

“Are you through sneaking off?” Dwalin asked, and though there was no malice in his tone, Rowan’s face erupted into a scowl, nonetheless. 

“I wasn’t sneaking off that day, if you must know. I was trying to sleep. And I found a place near the river, and I was doing just that. But your idiot king and his idiot guards overreact as usual,” Rowan snapped back. “And where is that coward today? I did not see him at breakfast this morning, nor have I seen him since last we spoke. Where is he?” 

Dwalin hid his smile at her annoyance. For someone who professed to not care, she sure seemed very bothered by Thorin’s absence. “Our king is off patrolling this past week, if you must know.” The bald dwarf caught sight of the rope in Rowan’s hands. “And just what do you think you’re up to with that rope, lassie?” 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but since I can’t move an inch without supervision, I’ll tell you. I’m going inside this pen, and I’m going to see what’s bothering that war ram’s hoof.” Rowan stated as she crawled through the fence before Dwalin could realize what was happening and grab her. 

“Get back out here! You damned idiot! That beast will destroy you!” Dwalin barked as he beckoned two other stable hands over for help. Bofur also came with them, his eyes wide as the scene unfolded before them all. 

“Thorin will kill us both for this, Dwalin!” 

Rowan paid them no mind, her thoughts on the angry war ram that was now stamping its feet in her direction. She knew this was foolhardy, and she knew that she was probably going to die, but she could not go one more day watching this retched creature limp around in pain. It had been a week now since she’s seen his agony with each step he took, and now that he was declining food, she knew it was getting bad. She could not sit by and let it go on. Not when she knew she was capable of calming it enough so that she could get the farrier in to clear whatever was stuck in it’s hoof. It was very simple, what needed to be done; She just needed to not die in the process. She approached from the side, her hand held out, and she did her best to hide her trembling. The ram snorted, tossing it’s head about in warning, and charged her. Rowan yelped, but moved to the side just in enough time to not get run over. She gave s side-eyed look at Dwalin, and pretended not to be nervous. 

“By my beard, get yourself out of there, you damned idiot!” Dwalin boomed from the gate. His hand was on the hilt of his sword, ready at a moment’s notice to enter and slay the ram if need be, but he wasn’t overly worried. Not really. For some reason, he knew that Rowan was going to succeed in this venture, that she was entirely capable of turning this angry ram into a soft kid, and his opinion of her began to grow even more. His only worry was that Thorin was going to lose his mind when he found out that the girl had been so foolish, and he’d be blamed for that as well. 

“Leave me alone!” Rowan yelled back. She turned, her hand trembling as she reached out for the ram once more, and again, the ram charged her. And again, just when she was about to be trampled to death, she moved out of the way. This time, though, her hand trailed over the ram’s hide, and the creature stumbled a bit at her touch. It’s muscles flinched, and it snorted through it’s nose as it tried to make sense of Rowan. 

“That’s it, you curly haired monster. I’m only trying to help you,” Rowan cooed. She wiggled her fingers, beckoning to the beast to come closer. 

“By my beard!” Bofur exclaimed, eyes wide, and jaw dropped. “Is she trying to die? Because that is how you get yourself killed.”

“Aye, and when she does, it’ll be my ass Thorin hands to me!” Dwalin growled. He yelled in her direction again: “Get yourself out of there, witch!” 

“Leave me alone!” Rowan tossed again over her shoulder.

She circled the ram, cautiously, moving closer in the tiniest of increments, until she was very nearly touching it again. The beast snorted, kicking it’s back hooves, and stamped forward, and Rowan closed her eyes, knowing that now she was going to get trampled for good, and just when she thought she was a goner, she felt the beast’s nose touch her fingers, and there was a a moment of pain-induced fury as it’s thoughts flooded her thoughts, but then she pushed back and the creature almost immediately settled. Soft snorts came at her fingertips, and when Rowan opened her eyes, it was to see the ram nuzzling her fingers, the war-hardy beast now addicted to the calmness she was projecting it’s way. Rowan slowly stood, never taking her fingers from the ram, and smiled. 

“That’s it,” she whispered softly. She moved closer, running her other hand up and over the beast’s neck and scratching at it’s ears. “You’re not so bad, are you? You just needed a woman’s touch.” She leaned in closer, and the ram pressed it’s nose at her cheek, snorting and sniffing and causing Rowan to giggle. 

“Well I’ll be!” Dwalin started laughing as the sight unfolded before them, but it was Bofur now, that looked on in terror and shock. 

“Don’t encourage her foolishness! When Thorin finds out, he’s going to kill us both!” Bofur looked over his shoulder, searching for said king. Luckily, he was still out and not here to see this spectacle. 

“I think Thorin will be mighty proud of her,” Dwalin calmly remarked as he leaned over the fence and watched the witch. She really was amazing, with her short stature and slim frame, the way she was able to handle that creature with naught but a touch. 

“Now would be a good time to send in your farrier,” Rowan hollered at Dwalin. She turned, and gave a smug look. “I did the hard part.” With a hand at the halter on the ram’s head, she slowly started walking, taking care not to push the ram too fast or too hard in consideration of it’s injured foot. After a few moments, they made it back to the fence. She looped the rope through the ram’s halter, and tied it at the fence, and never once did she stop touching it. When she was satisfied, she looked up at Dwalin, and arched a brow.

“Are you happy? I didn’t die.” 

“No, you did not,” Dwalin rejoined. Indeed, his opinion of her was continuing to grow by the second. “And I am glad you didn’t perish. T’would be a shame, truly.” Dwalin smiled and Rowan returned it, and in that moment, a in that moment, an actual, tangible peace between them was forged. 

“How do you do it?” Bofur asked in wonder. “That thing would have killed me and him and all of us, but not you!” 

“I’m not sure. I touch someone, or some animal, and they just seem to do what I ask them to,” Rowan remarked as she placed her palm at the ram’s head. The beast closed its eyes and snorted in contentment, earning a soft smile from Rowan. 

“If only you could touch everyone and make them do what you wanted…” Dwalin reckoned, his words heavy with an innuendo that was lost on Bofur…but not on her. Rowan cut her eyes at the dwarven warrior, her lips pressed, and all happiness gone at being reminded of the one thing she couldn’t manipulate, no matter how much she wished she could. It was her wounded hoof, and unfortunately, there was no farrier that could fix it for her. 

“Yes, well, if that was the case, then all our problems would be solved, wouldn’t they?” She muttered as she gave the ram one more gentle pat, and then she exited the enclosure. She adjusted her clothes, her movements jerky with her mounting frustration. It was not lost on Dwalin. 

“Are you going to run off again?” Dwalin turned to her, his eyes watching her face carefully. 

“And where would I go, master dwarf? Thorin won’t let me go anywhere unless he approves it.” She looked over her shoulder to see the two guards stood just out of view. “Even now, with you here, they are still there. Watching me as if I need a babysitter!” 

“He worries about you,” Dwalin lowered his voice so that Bofur (who was still wrapped up in the whole ram ordeal and was now explaining the magic of it to the farrier that had just arrived) might not hear. “I know you don’t believe it, but he does.” 

Rowan sniffed again.

“Of course he does,” she sarcastically snapped. “That’s what you all say, how much he cares. But he has a funny way of showing it.” She looked around again. “And why is he always out on patrol? Aren’t there others that can go in his stead?”

“You wouldn’t be worried about him, would you be?” 

“Of course not,” Rowan denied. “Anyway, will you be here tomorrow?” 

“Aye,” Dwalin nodded. “Can I expect you here the same?” 

“Your company is better than none, so I suppose so.” Rowan sassed, and Dwalin couldn’t resist a laugh at her. 

“Goodbye, Dwalin.” 

“Good day, witch,” Dwalin replied. He watched after as she left the area, her steps jerky, and movements full of agitation as she walked ahead of the guards who followed behind her. Once she was back inside the stronghold, he turned back to the ram, and eyed it carefully. The farrier, a man called Bior, from Rohan, was carefully stepping inside the pen and assessing the creature, and, amazingly, the ram was still at ease, only shuffling with the smallest amount of nerves. Dwalin could only shake his head. 

The witch, she was a strange creature, indeed. 

_And a liar, just like Thorin,_ he thought, huffing out a quiet laugh to himself. 

Rowan’s claim to not care about Thorin was a huge lie, almost as big as the one the king tried to pass off as his own. Dwalin smiled as he watched the interaction between the farrier and the ram, his thoughts returning to the day he’d shown Rowan the truth about Halla, when he’d forced her to see what had really happened. When he’d shown her the truth about Thorin and the whole messy ordeal, Rowan had shown him something so much greater. And in truth, he wasn’t even sure if Rowan knew what she was doing when she’d revealed her feelings about Thorin Oakenshield to him so openly, but Dwalin would not soon forget the burning intensity of the feelings she’d shared with him. The longing and the sadness that she bore. The wanting and the need. He knew what it was like to love someone so deeply that the very idea of losing them would take you to your knees. To love someone, to want so badly to be a part of their lives, and to wish to see them smile, just for you and you alone. To only want to see them happy, no matter what, and no matter how high the cost to oneself.

He pulled away from the gate, his mind made up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry it's taking so long. I have been writing and rewriting, and more than a few times (like a hundred probably) I have slammed my laptop down and said "What a crock of shit this is," or "god that's fucking terrible shit," or "wow that's really shit."
> 
> I have rearranged the chapters over and over, tried to look for a flow, and I keep ending up with this hot mess. So, I said to myself, I was just gonna post some chapters and see what happens.
> 
> I really, really hope it all makes sense eventually. 52 damn chapters in and we're still here. WTF. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. I apologize for my inconsistency and lack of direction.


	53. Chapter 53

In the following days after the ram incident, Rowan spent more time at the stables in Dwalin’s company, their civil interactions growing into what one might even call a friendship. Kili joined her on occasion, though he was more inclined to spend his time with Tauriel, and Rowan couldn’t fault him for that, though his absence was not easy. Thorin was as absent as he usually was, and that only served to add to her frustration. And, it added to her fear, if she were being honest. Despite what had happened, she still cared about him more than she wanted to admit, and not catching sight of him in the morning or the evening, going whole days without seeing or hearing him was wearing on her heart and soul. She survived on the little tidbits of info that Dwalin gave, or Balin or Kili, when either of them slipped up and spoke about Thorin’s whereabouts. Instead of returning home as she had assumed, now he’d gone to visit his cousin in the Iron Hills, and was negotiating trade there, they’d said. _And, he’d be back soon,_ they all assured, even though she didn’t ask for their bloody assurance. She would never admit, though, how it irked her that he was gone alone, without Kili or Dwalin, or any of the others. _Why did he always insist on going alone? _

Not one bit of it did anything to ease the tension laying heavy on her heart, and there were days she felt like running away just to escape it all. Maybe if she ran far enough she'd be able to erase him from her mind and heart. But where would she go? Who would she stay with? The last time she'd tried, it had not ended well. At all. So many questions. Did she really love Thorin? Was this love that she felt for him? This terrible, hurtful, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when she thought about him being injured. The fear that hurt froze heart when she recalled him getting wounded by the warg. The smile that appeared on her face when she remembered beating him at chess. The anger that colored her cheeks when she remembered how he’d rejected her. That same heat rising in her cheeks as she recounted that intimate night they’d shared, just before she’d left…

So many conflicting emotions. 

_Was this love? _

This jumble of twisted and tangled feelings that swirled about in her head? Because if it was, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted it. How long could she go on living like this in limbo, not knowing when or if he was coming back, and when he did, how would he treat her? Would it still be the avoidance? Would he have changed? Would she have changed? She wondered if she was ever going to be free of this constant state of _nothing._

So, she did what she could to occupy her time. She began spending time in Dale, and with the horsemen from Rohan, and Bior in particular. He was the one who’d so thoroughly cleaned the ram’s hoof on that day, and she was learning much from him by way of farriering. She was not trusting of him at first, but if Dwalin was around _(and he_ _seemed to be around her all the time she was in the stables)_ she felt as safe as she could be. And Bior was a human, her kind if she had to choose a kind, and she found it easy to talk to him. She had also finally made her way back down to the communal area. Though she wasn’t quite ready to move back into her home, she had begun visiting with some of the families from before, and had slowly started offering some assistance medically, and some concoctions as requested. But it was not like before. Nothing was like before. And she worried that things would never be like they were before. Her life before Erebor seemed so far away, and so very different from who she was now.

Today was a good day, though, because she was finally visiting her friend, Lofala. As difficult as it was to come this close to her old home, it needed to be done. One small step at a time.

“What’s on your mind, Rowan? Are you sure you don’t want to come inside?” Lofala asked as she stepped out of her house and sat next to her friend on the small wooden bench near the doorstep. Rowan shook her head, not quite ready to enter the home that looked so much like hers and Halina’s. 

Lofala understood, and didn’t press the matter as she reached out, pressing her hand at Rowan’s forearm. “Here or there is fine with me! I’ve missed you so much! And I’m glad you’ve finally come to visit, but please, you need to talk to me. I can see on your face that you are not well, and I wish you would’ve reached out sooner. Talk to me.” 

“I don’t even know where to start…” Rowan began softly, and almost immediately, she wanted to cry. Why had she waited so long to come and see her friend? Lofala, as if sensing the need, pulled Rowan into a hug, and Rowan did start crying as she pressed her head at Lofala’s shoulder. 

“It’s alright, Rowan. It’s all going to be alright. And I am sorry about Halina, as none of us knew she was like that.” She hugged Rowan tighter, taking care not to touch her skin. “But it’s over now, right? You’re here, and you’re safe, and things will only get better.” She pulled back to see her friend’s eyes, but Rowan continued crying. Lofala frowned. “Something else is bothering you, though. Tell me.” 

“It’s all wrong. Everything’s wrong.” Rowan stood and started pacing, the nail of her thumb at her teeth as she nibbled. “You were right about Thorin. When you spoke of the rumors, you were right. We did…we were…” – Rowan blushed furiously, and Lofala smiled secretively for she knew much already. 

“The thing is, we were together, but we weren’t together. He asked me to forgive him for all the…things…he’d done before, and I was trying, Lofala. I was trying so hard. I started thinking that he and I, that we could…that I might…” Rowan swiped at her eyes as her anger rose. “And then, Halina told me all these things about him, and I believed her, because it sounded logical, and I questioned Thorin, and he got so mad at me. He told me to leave, said that he knew I would never trust him, and he…and he…said that he didn’t care where I went but that I needed to leave Erebor.” Rowan took some steadying breaths, her voice cracking and breaking with emotion. 

“And then?” Lofala pressed gently, though inside she was fuming at the stupidity of Thorin Oakenshield. “What happened next?” 

“And then I saw Dwalin and he showed me the truth about Thorin and Halla and I was so embarrassed because I doubted him. But he was so mad at me, and so I did what I thought I should, and I left. Dwalin said I didn’t deserve Thorin, and he was right, and I did what I thought I should, and I left. I went to where Halina told me to go, and I didn’t know that Dazmir was there, and I…I was so afraid that Thorin might come, even though I didn’t think he would after all we’d said to each other, but Dazmir told me what Halina was planning and he took my necklace and I just knew that he was going to lure Thorin there, and I couldn’t let anything happen to him, Lofala.” Rowan shook her head. “I couldn’t let him get hurt, and I thought, you know, that just maybe he might come, and so I…_I took Halina_…_.I_….” Rowan started shaking, her hands clenching and unclenching as the memories overwhelmed her, and with a whimper, she fell to her knees on the ground. She started sobbing, great, big choking sobs that wracked her body, and Lofala came to her and sat with her. 

“I killed her, Lofala. With my hands, I killed her. I made her kill herself.” Rowan looked up, her eyes haunted with memory. “I made her stab herself and she died, and I did that. All on my own._ I killed her.”_ Rowan hitched a breath. “And all because I was scared that Thorin might get hurt.” A fresh wave of tears spilled over. “I wasn’t thinking, and I did that to her because I thought she might hurt him, and I couldn’t imagine her hurting him because of me, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.” Rowan started rocking, hugging herself and rocking as she sobbed and uttered those words, over and over. Lofala very carefully pulled her friend down so that her head was resting on her lap, and comforted her in the best way she could. 

Rowan felt the dam break: for the first time in weeks, she had someone to talk to. Someone who was really listening, and she unloaded all on Lofala’s very capable shoulders. She cried about how she’d been coming down to the stables lately, working with the horses, doing anything she could to take her mind off the dwarf king that lived mere feet away from her, yet refused to pay her any attention. How she thought for sure that Thorin might soften towards her after the conversation they had in her room, but if anything, he had seemingly grown colder. Through tears, she recalled the fight before he left. How every day, their interactions became shorter and shorter, until days went by that she wouldn’t see or talk to him. And how she was miserable without him here, and how she wanted to run away and leave him for good. How it hurt her to see him. She explained how she both hated and loved him, her anger at him growing the more he rejected her. As scarce as he was, it was like he’d never existed at all. Like they never existed at all. 

But, Rowan explained, despite his extended absences, Thorin seemed to be as controlling as ever, and it annoyed the hell out of her. It confused her. She had questioned Balin and Kili, and yes, even Dwalin, about why Thorin was ramping up his supposed authority where she was concerned, and none seemed to be able to give her a straight answer. _Why was he bothering,_ she asked, _if he didn’t care?_ None could or would give her a straight answer. Her only explanation was that the events by the river – _her little stunt, as Thorin had so annoying called it_ – had resulted in the increase in guard’s presence, and now she knew that anything she did that Thorin thought even remotely inappropriate would set him off something fierce. Logic would say that because she knew it would anger him, she’d behave, but Rowan was done acting in the way the king wanted. The longer he stayed gone, and the more he tried to control her, the more aggravated she became. He was not her father nor her husband, and if he ever came back, she would tell him herself that he could just go and piss himself, what for all she cared! Lofala had laughed at that remark, and Rowan might have cracked a smile herself. 

But, despite all her ranting and bravado, Rowan knew she wasn’t well; She painfully admitted that truth to Lofala. She knew she was behaving dangerously, inappropriately, and part of her knew Thorin was right, though she’d never admit that to him or anyone else._ Yes,_ she admitted, _she was still having nightmares, and still not sleeping well._ So many nights she’d wake up in a cold sweat, her heart pounding and stomach roiling as Halina’s panic-filled eyes would flash in her mind and cripple her with guilt and shame. She wasn’t eating well. She had taken to drinking, which she’d never really done before, and she knew it was because she was not handling the events with Halina well. And she had no one to talk to about it, no one that would understand. Thorin was the one she needed to talk to, but he was not there for her. And she hated him for it sometimes, that was true. 

Lack of sleep and feeling out of control caused her to do things she might not ordinarily do, and she found she pushed her boundaries daily, and maybe just to spite him. She was tired of feeling like he could sit on his throne and dictate her life, and yet stay so removed from it. Riding too far along the river, staying out too late. Not being where the guards advised her she should be, and refusing to answer Thorin when he outright questioned her. Two could play his silly little game. The only time she got a rise out of him was when she was doing something he disliked, and well, maybe she would just keep pushing him until something happened. Either he’d let her go, or….or….whatever, she didn’t know. She just knew that something was going to happen, eventually._ It had to, right? _

Above her, Lofala hid her smile. “So, might you be doing these things to get his attention?” 

Rowan scoffed, though she felt a tad guilty, because yes, she knew if she did crazy things, Thorin would get crazier. More controlling, annoyingly so, but at least she would see him. She still had his attention, as aggravating as it was. And if she had his attention, didn't that somehow mean he still cared? She did not know.

“You deny, but I think you might be doing that without even realizing what you’re doing, Rowan,” Lofala grinned. 

“He just makes me so mad,” was all Rowan could come up with by way of reply. 

“So, can I offer some advice?” Lofala gently asked. She had tugged her glove back on, and felt comfortable passing a hand over Rowan’s hair and pushing the dark mass back from her friend’s forehead, and then her temples. 

“Okay,” Rowan sniffled. 

“Do you love him?” 

“Everyone keeps asking me that, and I don’t know what to say. When I first saw him after waking, I told him I loved him.” 

“And now?”

“It would be safe to say that I love him as much as I hate him,” Rowan grumbled. Lofala hid her smile as she ducked her chin. “And I know this will sound silly to you, but my mother came to me in my dream and told me Thorin was my _Split-Apart._ What am I supposed to do with that?”

Lofala smiled. “That is not silly in the slightest, dear. You know we dwarves have our _One,_ why would it be any different for other races?”

“Well, what happens if your _One_ doesn’t want you?” Rowan mumbled. “What then?” 

“Have you ever told him that? What your mother said?” 

“Yes,” Rowan mumbled. “When I first woke up and he was there with me in the bed I told him I loved him. And when we fought, I told him about my mother. How I chose him over her.” 

“And? What did he say to that?” Lofala asked. 

“Nothing. At first, he told me to go to sleep.” Rowan’s eyes welled again. “But he stayed with me, and I thought we were okay, and then he was just gone. I don’t know what happened and he won’t talk to me. He’s just gone. But he’s still trying to control me, and the more he presses me, the more I want to fight back.” 

“Well, my darling, maybe you will have to remind him of what he’s missing.” Lofala smiled down at Rowan. “Sometimes males are stupid in the ways of love, and we have to show them what they’re missing so that they may do the right thing.” 

“Thorin is not like that,” Rowan denied as she sat up. She wiped at her face and pushed her hair back. “I don’t know much about men or dwarves or relationships, but I know that he’s not one that can be fooled like that. He’s much too serious.” 

“Who said anything about fooling anyone?” Lofala quirked an eyebrow. “Have you kissed him?” 

Rowan gasped, her cheeks reddened with heat, and Lofala laughed. “I shall take that as a yes.” 

“I don’t see how that’s relevant, and now I need to go,” Rowan stood abruptly, and Lofala followed. 

“Maybe you ought kiss him again, Rowan?” Lofala offered with a smile. “Remind him of what he’s missing.” 

“Goodbye!” Rowan snapped, and Lofala could only laugh at her friend’s retreating back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more until the good part...thanks for sticking around!


	54. Chapter 54

Rowan was sitting at the table, chewing on some bread and cheese, and reading her book, when a set of hands slammed down on the wood in front of her and rattled everything. She looked up in annoyance to find Thorin glaring down at her. Her heart stuttered in her chest at seeing him after so many days, but she caught herself before she reacted to him._ Her first thought was that he was safe, and back home and out of danger. **Thank Eru!!**_ She was still mad at him, though, and therefore quickly cleared all emotion off her face as she met his gaze head on. 

“Oh, you’re back. Did you need something?” She asked as innocently as she could. Thorin’s blue eyes darkened with annoyance. 

“Don’t play coy with me! What are you doing, going into the ram’s pen? You nearly got yourself killed! Are you insane?” 

“Who snitched on me?” She looked around, shooting a pointed glare at Dwalin. He tilted his head in her direction, and her eyes narrowed on him before she looked back at Thorin. “And, just so you know, I was helping,” she finished, doing her best to show her uninterest as she turned back to her book. Enraged, Thorin snatched the book from her hands. Rowan looked up at him, blinking a few times for good measure. “Give it back.” 

Thorin shook his head. “Not until you promise to stop doing such idiotic things.” 

“You don’t control me, Thorin,” she snapped as she stood up and collected her food and things. “And keep the book. I have more.” 

Thorin watched, dumbfounded as she casually walked away from him. Dismissing him. Other dwarves that were eating were watching with shocked expressions, never having seen anyone be so disrespectful to the king and live to tell about it. One heated look from Thorin, though, and they all looked away, pretending to eat and not see anything. He marched after Rowan and caught her in the corridor. He wanted to throttle her. 

“Stop!” 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Rowan shot back as she kept walking. Thorin ran after her, and grabbed her about the arm and spun her around. 

“I said stop!” Thorin barked his command. 

“And I said don’t tell me what to do!” Rowan shot back, just as angrily. 

The king crossed his arms over his chest, and Rowan did the same. A stalemate. 

“Are you done?” She sarcastically asked. 

Thorin shook his head, his brow darkening even further. “Hardly. It’s like you have a death-wish! Why do you insist on doing such reckless things?” 

“Why do you care?” Rowan answered his question with one of her own. Thorin’s countenance clouded further. 

“Don’t be so stupid.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Rowan muttered again. Finding it hard to look at him, she instead looked at her nails, her attempt at showing him just how disinterested she was in what he had to say. Silence ensued between her and the king, until finally he exploded. 

“You are a child!” Thorin threw his hands up in the air and stomped a booted foot. 

“I’m nearly as old as you are.” Rowan rejoined. “And are you done? I have a ride later.” 

Thorin’s eyes narrowed into icy slits as he pulled himself up to his full, authoritative height. “Well…I forbid it.” 

“Well… lucky me, I don’t belong to you.” Rowan turned on her heel and marched away, and Thorin followed behind her. 

“Who is it?” 

“Who’s who?” Rowan asked, though she knew very well whom he was referring to. Stubborn, idiotic dwarf. Thorin grabbed her hand, halting her again. 

“The person you’re going riding with. Who is it? Is it Bard?” He stepped close enough to tower over her, but Rowan was not to be cowed. She leaned forward and pressed her palm at Thorin’s chest, felt the erratic beating of his heart, and sweetly whispered:

“It’s none of your business.” 

Thorin let out a string of curses in Khuzdul, and Rowan couldn’t hide her grin as she took off towards her room again. He seemed jealous. Incredibly so, and Rowan thought that maybe Lofala was right about getting his attention in just such a manner. She picked up her pace, moving faster, and of course, Thorin followed, fast on her heels. She had her hand on the doorknob when the king grabbed her once more, only this time he spun her around and then pushed her up against the door to her room. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving and his eyes wild as he caged her in the space with a hand on either side of her head. 

“Did you not hear me? I forbid you to go riding.” 

“And I said I am not yours to command,” Rowan whispered. 

She was completely caught in his spell, enthralled by his deep, commanding voice, aroused by his anger. Overwhelmed by his strong presence. As if she were a moth drawn to a flame, she reached out and touched him, trailing her hand up the center of his chest, taking care to touch him as much as she could in that short amount of time. The scent of horses and leather and sweat and earth and smoke, and something that was inherently Thorin…All assaulted her senses, and she fought the urge to push herself into his arms and hold him against her. Eru, how she missed this bantering between them, the fire in his eyes and raw emotion in his voice. She never felt more alive than when she was with him, and she thought with confusion how strange that was, considering their past. Her eyes rose to meet his in challenge. There was no denying how much she missed him, and if he only knew, she would give up everything to be with him. If he would only just ask, if he would only let her in. 

Thorin pinned her with his blue eyes, the vein at his temple throbbing, belying the calm demeanor he was trying to project. 

“I could tie you up in my room,” Thorin warned in a low, menacing voice. Rowan moved in closer to whisper:

“Would you really? I’ve heard that could be fun…” 

Thorin gasped at her audacity, his cheeks blooming with color at her innuendo. “Where are you hearing such things? Tell me!”

“None of your business,” Rowan repeated as she ducked from under his arm and let herself in her room before he could stop her. She was trying to close the door when Thorin stuck his arm in, and forcefully pushed it back open, so hard that she stumbled back. She frowned when she saw him slam the door behind him, and the look on his face both terrified and excited her. Her stomach was flipping in that unusual way, not quite nauseating but something else entirely. She bit her lip, both worried and aroused, and she did not know which was more pressing at this moment. A voice inside her warned that she shouldn’t taunt him so, while another voice urged her on. At least he was paying attention to her!

“Talk.” Thorin crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the door, his posture appearing relaxed, though the look on his face showed he was anything but calm and collected. 

“About?” 

“Don’t play games with me, Rowan. Who are you riding with? And where are you hearing such…filth?” He said the word with such distate that even Rowan began to worry that she'd gone too far. 

“Are you jealous?” 

“Should I be?” Thorin gritted out. 

“I don’t know. Should you be?” Rowan innocently asked as she undid her belt and tugged it from the waist of her pants with slow intention. More and more she was inclined to believe that Lofala was indeed right, and she just needed to remind the king of what they’d almost had…

Thorin’s eyes watched her every move, his Adam’s apple bobbing as she kicked off her boots and removed her socks. Rowan lifted the edge of her shirt, then turned back to look at Thorin. He was nearly gaping, his jaw slack as he caught a glimpse of her bare belly. Her own heart was beating rapidly in her chest, the fear of the unknown, the danger so close as she toyed with him in this way. She was entirely out of her element, but found she could not stop pushing. “Are you going to stand there and watch me undress, or…?” 

The remainder of her sentence, the question, hung heavy in the air, a silent challenge passing between them to the tune of their thundering hearts and shallow breaths.

The king’s eyes darted up to hers, and it took everything in her to not moan out loud at the lustful expression on his face. His eyes had grown impossibly dark, turbulent as a raging sea that she’d only read about, and as angry as a northern storm. She swallowed the lump of her nerves in her throat, and instead, bit at her lip, and prayed she didn’t pass out. She was not so dumb anymore, and she knew that he was affected –Just as much as she was, and she was tempted to rip her shirt off just to see what would happen. His lips flattened, and his fists clenched at his side. The expression faded from her face, and her heart thumped rapidly in her chest as she held her breath in anticipation. The air was charged in the room, the tension so thick you could cut it with the bluntest of blades, and Eru, the way he was staring at her as if he wanted to devour her…

“Thorin,” she reminded herself to breathe. 

“What?” he mumbled as he looked up at her, finally taking his eyes of her body to see her face. 

“Can you leave? I need to get ready.” _Please don’t leave,_ she internally begged him…

Thorin’s countenance darkened again as she reminded him of her prior commitments, and now he was scowling. Rowan’s demeanor also darkened at his stubbornness, her lust quickly replaced with anger. 

“This is what you wanted, remember?” Rowan accused. “This is your doing.”

With an exasperated sigh, Thorin stormed out of her room, and Rowan ran after him so that she could loudly and pointedly slam the door behind him. The king made his way back down to the dining hall and dropped down into his chair next to Balin. Dwalin was seated across the pair. Balin wisely slid a tankard of ale the king’s way, and Thorin downed it in one go, and then ran a shaky hand over his face and jaw. 

“Why was she allowed to go into the pen?” Thorin asked no one in particular, though his eyes darted to Dwalin more than once. 

“She went in before I could catch her, Thorin,” Dwalin answered. “The girl is cunning. Sneaky, and disobedient.” 

“Mahal, I am going to lock her in that blasted cell again!” 

The two Fundin brothers cast uneasy looks at each other as Thorin picked up a bottle of ale and drank straight from the bottle. His hands shook, and his knuckles were white as his hands gripped the bottle and the edge of the table. The brothers wisely said nothing as the king continued his tirade. 

“And she is not allowed to go riding with anyone!” Thorin ordered with a pointed finger in the white-haired dwarf's direction. “Balin, tell her. And I don’t care if she is angry. She will get over it.” 

“Thorin, I don’t –” Balin began, only to have his words interrupted by the king. 

“No! Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it. She’s not allowed. She’s going to get herself killed!” Thorin boomed, slamming his hands on the table, rattling all the food and drink. The king stood up and stomped away, leaving the other dwarves to sit and stare after him. Only when the king was out of earshot did Dwalin start chuckling to himself. Balin glared at his brother. 

“Are you sure this is wise, brother? To push him in this way?” Balin fretted. “And Rowan will skewer me when I tell her this news!”

“They are too stubborn, so we have to do it for them,” Dwalin replied as he took a sip of his drink, a satisfied grin on his face. “It’ll all work out. Don’t worry.”

Balin sighed again. “I hope you’re right. For all our sakes!” 


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and this whole arc is dedicated to Emrfangirl ❤️

**Later...**

Dwalin crept along the stone wall, doing his best to remain unseen as he entered the small home without knocking. A pair of hands grabbed him about his waist and tugged him into the shadows, and he smiled into her mouth and her embrace and his heart was happy._ Mahal, how he had missed her touch. _

“Hello, my beauty,” he kissed Lofala, his muscled arms snaking around the much smaller dwarf as he nuzzled her neck. She pulled him deeper into her arms and dragged him over to the bed, tugging at his belt with haste. He smiled, and then laughed. 

“You’ve missed me, have you?” 

“Of course!” Lofala smirked as his hands traveled up and down her waist and skimmed along her ribs. “And I can tell you’ve missed me…”

“You have no idea…” Dwalin growled against her as he pulled her ear lobe in-between his teeth and bit lightly. Lofala moaned against him as she frantically pushed his coat and then his shirt off, and then they were naked, and all was forgotten but the feel of her and him and of them together…

* * *

“So, how did it go? Your talk with the king.” Lofala idly twirled her lover’s thick chest hair about her fingers. 

“We haven’t talked yet. Not really.” 

“Dwalin Fundin!” Lofala griped. “You said you would just as soon as he returned from the Iron Hills!”

“He was in no mood to speak to me after the stunt your friend pulled!” Dwalin retorted. “She is insane, that witch.” His face softened, though. “But you were right in that she is special. I’ll give her that.” 

Lofala smiled against his chest. “I told you she was. What’d she do now?” 

Dwalin recounted how Rowan had entered the war ram pen, and had not only entered, but petted that ram as if it were a dog. Lofala had to giggle, and Dwalin scowled. 

“I shudder to think what would have happened had she gotten hurt! Thorin would have blamed that on me as well! As if I’m her caretaker and she is but a babe!” 

“She is not doing well, Dwalin. She came to me. Earlier today. She is not doing well at all, I fear,” Lofala frowned. “Has Thorin mentioned her?” 

“He still refuses to see that he is wrong. They are still at an impasse, though I can see it pains him to distance himself from her.” 

“And her. When she came to me earlier, the poor thing broke down and cried on the ground, Dwalin. She is not well, my love. Not in the slightest.” Lofala frowned at the memory. “She loves him. And she needs him. And he needs her, stubborn ass that he is. We all know that, and to be honest with you, I’m angry with the king myself, and have a good enough mind to go and speak with him on her behalf.” 

“That would not be wise, sweetness,” Dwalin grinned at her temple. How he loved this feisty dwarf of his. 

“I’m not scared of Thorin Oakenshield!” Lofala snorted. 

“And that scares the bloody hell out of me!” Dwalin grinned into her hair. Feisty indeed. 

“Well, I’m pleased that I amuse you so, but you need to talk to him, my love. Mayhap you’re going to have to force his hand. And soon.” Lofala advised. She hugged her warrior tighter and snuggled in. “You have to make things right between them, Dwalin. With both him and her. I will need Rowan before too long, and she is not well as she currently is.”

Dwalin frowned at the cryptic tone in her voice and pulled back so he could see her face. Lofala pressed her chin at his chest and smiled up at him. His frown grew. “Now what on earth are you going on about?” 

“I’m pregnant, my love.” 

Dwalin felt the air leave his body and the ground below him fall away, and he did the most logical thing in the world and scrambled away from the one he loved and fell out of the bed as if his foot had been touched by a snake under the covers. Lofala sat up, the blanket wrapped around her, and giggled at this huge warrior who’d just been rendered mute by her revelation. She stared down at him from her spot atop the bed. 

“Cat got your tongue?” 

Dwalin’s mouth dropped open, then it snapped shut, only to drop open again. He looked at her face, then her belly, then back up her face. Lofala nodded, an answer to his unspoken question, and just as quickly as he removed himself from her embrace, he returned. He leapt on the bed, scooping her up in his arms and hugging her tight against his chest, and none would probably believe it if the story was told to them, but the big dwarf warrior started crying, right there in her arms. Lofala cried with him, a mixture of tears and giggles and whispered words of affection and happiness. 

She leaned back to cup his weathered face in her hands. “Are you happy? Truly? I know we didn’t plan on this, and we’ve only just admitted our feelings to each other, but are you happy with this and with me?”

“Are you insane?” Dwalin smacked her lips in a kiss. “I have survived dragon fire and ruin, and battles beyond belief, and now you bestow such a gift on me, and your first thought is to ask if I’m happy?” 

“Well?” Lofala asked, needing his reassurance. Their relationship had taken off so fast after Rowan had come to Erebor, taking them both by surprise, and none knew about them still. Not even Rowan, nor Balin or Thorin. Not yet. Neither she nor Dwalin had hoped to find love in such times, and neither were taking it lightly. Finding your _One_ was the most special thing for dwarfkind, and neither had thought they’d be graced with it in this lifetime, or perhaps even the next. 

“You are my _One,_ sweetness. And now we are having a baby. Do not ever doubt how happy I am,” Dwalin kissed her again, much more tenderly this time. Lofala giggled, her own eyes filling with tears as she hugged him tight. They hugged for a few minutes more, until Dwalin spoke.

“That settles it. I’m going to speak with Thorin right now. He needs to know all that we’ve discussed, and he needs to fix things. Now.” Dwalin stood up and tugged his pants on, and then his shirt. Lofala asked for a quick kiss, and then he was gone.

* * *

Dwalin pushed the door to the War Room open without a knock, his eyes on the king. 

“Thorin, we need to talk,” Dwalin began the conversation as he always did, and Thorin replied as he always did: A scowl, a dismissive flash of blue eyes, and then rejection. But today, Dwalin would not be rejected; Too much was riding on this conversation. 

“We have nothing to speak of, you and I.” The king looked back down at the map he was studying. “And I am only just returned from the Iron Hills. I have much work to do. Get out.”

Dwalin slammed a fist down on the table in frustration, rattling all sorts of things. “How long are we going to go ‘round like this, you and I? Because I am mighty sick of this, Thorin! Mighty sick!” 

“How long did you lie to me, brother?” Thorin hissed as he stood up, glaring at his friend. “Years, was it? Let’s start there, shall we?” 

“Why don’t we settle this the old-fashioned way? With our swords and our hands, down at the training grounds?” Dwalin offered quietly, though his words were laced with anger. At this, Thorin finally grinned. 

“I would love nothing more than to beat your ass into the ground, once and for all.” 

The two made their way downstairs, silent, each stripping off various pieces of clothing, until all that remained was their boots and pants.The rain began falling, adding to the doom and gloom of their moods. Somewhere in the distance, lighting flashed and thunder rolled. Thorin grabbed a set of training weapons, and flung one of the battered swords at Dwalin. The bald dwarf just barely caught the weapon before it struck him in the side. Thorin gave an unrepentant grin, and Dwalin’s scowl grew.

“You bastard.” 

Thorin took up his stance, grinning like the devil, and Dwalin delivered the first blow. 

On and on it went, for hours, with dwarves coming to watch the king and his best warrior battle it out for dominance, and to all that were watching, it was nothing more than a good, old-fashioned training session. To Balin, it was heartbreaking, for he knew the strife that lay between the king who he saw as a brother, and the dwarf that was his actual brother. The pair rolled around in the mud, hitting and pounding away, no care for the bruises they were creating, and no worry for the wounds. The second time Thorin landed a closed-fist punch on Dwalin’s jaw, Balin gave up and retired to his room. He couldn’t watch two people he loved more than anything hurt each other in such a way, even if it meant at the end they would be on good terms. He just couldn’t watch this process any longer, and he was angry that he'd come in the first place. 

On his way to his room, he ran into Rowan, and she inquired about Dwalin. So upset and out of sorts, he absentmindedly directed her to the training grounds before he hurried away to his quarters. Rowan frowned after him, but said nothing, and went on her way to find Dwalin. 

The fight continued, and Thorin managed to get the upper hand most times, but there was one time when he caught a glimpse of dark hair and curious eyes, and he lost his footing. As he lay on the ground, and with Dwalin’s boot at his throat and his cheek pressed in the mud, he turned his head to catch his breath, and it was then that he saw Rowan peeking out from behind one of the pillars. She was frowning at him, and he would swear he saw tears in her eyes, though he couldn’t be sure. It appeared she didn’t approve of what she was seeing, and shame washed over him as he lay in the mud, his face and body covered with the wet dirtiness, and he wondered what on earth he was doing in such a state as this. 

“Do you yield?” Dwalin grunted, and Thorin was reinvigorated with renewed anger. 

“To you, never!” Thorin shoved the dwarf’s boot off, and twisted his ankle so that Dwalin fell down. Thorin quickly crawled over him, and placed his blade at Dwalin’s throat. 

“Why don’t you just kill me?” 

“Don’t be stupid!” Thorin hissed, though he wasn’t paying attention to the dwarf below him. His eyes were still searching for Rowan, and in doing so, he didn’t realize how serious Dwalin was. Or how the hardened dwarf was staring up at him with blood-shot eyes that had nothing to do with battle, and everything to do with hurt that lay between them. When Thorin finally looked back down, his breath caught at the raw emotion on Dwalin’s face. His blade shook as his hand did the same. 

“I would rather you kill me, than have you look upon me with such hatred and disgust as you do now, Thorin. I would rather be dead that continue with this between us.” 

Thorin stumbled off Dwalin, falling back on his haunches and landing on his rear as the harsh reality of the open wound in his friendship slammed into his face. Dwalin was crying, a sight Thorin had only ever seen a handful of times, and it rocked him to his core. He looked around, saw the shocked expressions of those watching, and flung a hand at them all. 

“Go away! All of you! Leave now!” 

The crowd dispersed, and then it was just Thorin and Dwalin and a deafening silence. Rain started falling harder, the heavier drops gently coating everything and masking tears and snuffing out the heat of anger and resentment. Washing away the filth and the hurt and the misunderstanding. Thorin looked down at his hands, his hair falling in his face and hiding him further. He was ashamed of himself. The mud dripped off his fingers as the rain washed it away. 

“How did it come to this, Dwalin?” 

Dwalin sat up, running a hand over his face, and looked at his king. “With the best of intentions.”

Thorin opened his mouth to say something, but found he could not. Instead, he pressed his closed fist at his mouth, willing his emotions to stay in check. Emotions, feelings, were bad. Untrustworthy. _Weak,_ the voices screamed at him, reminding him of his shortcomings. 

“Thorin, as the great Aule is my witness, I never meant to keep that from you. But by the time it had all been explained by Halla, there was no coming back from it. And I couldn’t stand to add more to the weight you already bore on your shoulders.” Dwalin hitched a breath. “I was only ever trying to protect you, brother.” 

“By keeping the truth from me?” Thorin charged, though much of the fire in him was gone. He was so bloody tired of all the fighting. And deep down, he knew Dwalin had only the best of intentions where he and Erebor was concerned. 

“By protecting you, yes!” Dwalin answered. “Would you have not done the same for any of us?” 

“Aye, I would have,” Thorin quietly admitted. His eyes searched the shadows for her again. 

“I have made mistakes, brother, terrible, horrible mistakes and had great lapses in judgment, but it was never from a place of deception. I was only doing what I thought I must in order to take care of you. Because I love you, Thorin. You are my brother.” 

“We take care of those we love,” Thorin murmured, his eyes continuing to seek her out, his heart sinking when he did not find her. 

“Aye,” Dwalin replied. He sat up, resting his arms on his knees. “Can you ever forgive me?” 

“There was never anything to forgive,” Thorin mumbled awkwardly. He stood up, extending a hand to his friend, and pulled him up. Without asking, the two embraced, and hugged, and after some moments, Thorin pulled back, and regarded his best friend. “It is I that should be asking for forgiveness, Dwalin. I have been blind to those around me, those who have supported me through all. And I have no right to ask this of you, but can you forgive me, brother?” 

“There was never anything to forgive,” Dwalin repeated Thorin’s words, and his voice was strained. The two pressed their foreheads in dwarvish custom, and clapped each other on the shoulder. Thorin grinned and this time, it reached his eyes. 

“How long are we going to stand out here, hugging and crying in the rain like sobbing hobbits?” 

Dwalin let out a bark of a laugh, and the two separated and began collecting their things.

“Thorin, I need to tell you something,” Dwalin began, and the unease in his tone had the king searching his friend's face.

“What is it? I can hear the hesitation in your voice. Tell me.” 

Dwalin began pacing, occasionally swiping a hand at his face to remove the rain that was still falling, and finally he placed his hands on his hips and spoke plainly. “I have found my _One,_ Thorin.” The dwarf turned to his king and gave an uncharacteristic smile. Thorin was smiling, bemusedly as he waited. “Lofala, Thorin. It’s Lofala. We…we met when Rowan first moved down there, and I don’t know how it happened, but it did.” 

Thorin smiled. Genuinely. “I am happy for you brother. Lofala is a fine dwarrowdam, and I have heard nothing but good of her. May we all be so lucky to find love in this lifetime.” 

“That’s not all,” Dwalin continued. “She is pregnant, Thorin. We are to have a baby. I’m going to be a father.” 

“A baby?” Thorin whispered, and Dwalin nodded. 

“Aye. She just told me today.” He smiled in happy remembrance. “Can you believe the great Mahal would bless me so?” 

The pride on Dwalin’s face, and the tone in his voice - it was unmistakable, and Thorin felt, with shame, what could only be a tad bit of jealousy at his friend’s good fortune. What he wouldn’t give to experience that kind of happiness. He thought he might have had it before, but it was snatched from his grasp before the idea could even take hold. He swallowed the knot in his throat, and tried to pretend happiness; It was unfair to be anything but. 

“It is a blessing, indeed,” Thorin mumbled quietly. He was at a loss for words, truth be told. He cupped a hand at his jaw, and moved to start collecting his things, for he did not know what to do with himself in this moment. So many changes, and so fast. How had he been so blind? Dwalin stared after him, taking note of the stiffness in his friend’s posture. 

“You seem displeased?” 

“No, of course not,” Thorin turned around, his earlier look gone, and a tight smile on his face. “I am happy for you, and for her, Dwalin. I was…lost in my thoughts for a moment, forgive me.” 

“You’re sure?” Dwalin stepped forward, and Thorin did the same. The king clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and smiled, but Dwalin saw that the happiness did not reach his friend’s eyes, and his heart ached a little at Thorin’s circumstance. 

“Of course, I’m sure! A baby! This is a joyous occasion, brother. Be happy, for I am happy for you.” Thorin squeezed again, and then released Dwalin so that he could redress as much as his wet clothing would allow.

“The girl, Thorin. Rowan…” Dwalin began easily. The king stuttered in his movements, his hands going still at his belt, his fingers fumbling with the notch. 

“What of her?” Came Thorin’s stiff reply. The king looked so much like a cat with its hackle’s raised that Dwalin wanted to grin. 

“How is she?” 

“She is well since last we spoke. Why do you ask?” Thorin turned to look at his friend, warily. “You never cared to discuss her before, why now? And you’re using her first name. Since when? Has something happened?”

“She and I, we are possibly friends now.” Dwalin chuckled loudly. “Well, at least we are no longer enemies, I think. And because I saw you falter a moment ago, and I could’ve taken your head, and I am sure it’s because of Rowan.” Dwalin’s voice lowered. “And because I know you, and I know it’s killing you to be so apart from her.” 

“Dwalin,” Thorin shook his head in warning. “We have only just made peace. Are you trying to piss me off so soon? Please, let’s not sully your happiness with my unhappiness. And, I get that you are happy, but please, do not meddle in my affairs. I do not want nor need your help.” 

Dwalin laughed. “In for a penny, in for a pound, my brother.” He walked over to his friend and clapped a hand on his friend’s tense shoulder. “You are not getting any younger. And you don’t have to be unhappy. You know that as well as I do.” He squeezed the king’s shoulder. “You just need to trust her. And more importantly, you need to trust yourself.” 

“You are trying to piss me off.” 

“All I’m saying is, if you don’t pay attention to her, someone else will. She is hardly versed in the ways of men and love,” Dwalin casually stated, earning a glower from the king. 

“What does that mean?” Thorin demanded. “Dwalin?” 

“She has spoken to Lofala, Thorin. She is not well. And she is confused. About so many things, and I worry she will make a careless mistake. Given her innocence, that is,” Dwalin glanced at Thorin from the corner of his eyes. The king was pacing, one hand at his jaw, and Dwalin knew his words had hit their mark when the king turned his angry countenance upon him. 

“What does that bloody mean? Stop speaking in damned riddles, you ass! Tell me plainly what I need to know!” 

“Well, I’ve been informed…that is…I’ve heard she has been seen talking to a human from Dale. Someone from Rohan, traveled here for trade with Bard.” 

Thorin growled, low in his throat. “Why wasn’t I informed of this trade? And by my beard, why are so many suitors constantly after her! Will she never learn!!” 

“It’s Dale, Thorin, not Erebor. Am I to report all trade deals in all of the lands?” Dwalin chuckled. “And the witch is a bonny lass, Thorin. Even I can admit that.” 

Thorin glared at his friend. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” 

“You pretend not to hear a lot of things, my friend,” Dwalin laughed, his comment earning another grunt of disapproval from the king. 

As Thorin stomped off, Dwalin couldn’t help but be proud of the seed he’d just planted. He only hoped it would take root quickly, and spare them all this continued misery. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man. 
> 
> I just love Dwalin, and I wanted to redeem him, and I've always wanted to see him happy, so this just happened, and I am not even a little ashamed. I hope you all like it!


	56. Chapter 56

**Much later that evening…**

“Well?” Lofala asked pointedly.

“We went down to the training grounds, and beat the hell out of each other” Dwalin grumbled as the post-lovemaking glow was diminished by the reminder of his and Thorin’s now repaired rift. His hands traveled up and down Lofala’s bare back, needing her skin on his to remind him that some things were very good in this world when so much seemed messed up still. Thorin had forgiven him, but the damage had been done, and it would take time still to right things. He pressed a kiss at her temple and lay back with a sigh. 

“I can tell by all these fresh bruises,” Lofala frowned as she kissed one of the new purple marks that marred his collarbone. “Remind me to let Thorin Oakenshield know how it displeases me that you’ve been returned to me so battered.” 

“Aye, he was just as battered, my love,” Dwalin grinned proudly. “And I may have busted that pretty mouth of his.” 

“Did you at least make amends then?” She propped her chin on his chest to see his face. His smile grew. 

“We did. I think he has forgiven me for all.” 

“Good. I am glad for it.” She kissed the center of his chest. “And what about Rowan? Did you talk about her?” 

“I tried. It did not go as well as I had hoped it may, but the wheels were turning inside that noble head of his. I could almost see steam coming from his ears with how burnt up he was at the very thought of her with another!” 

“Dwalin! Why would you antagonize him so?” Lofala pinched his side, earning a chuckle. “You know he will just try and control her even further, and that will only make Rowan the madder at him! I can’t even imagine the hell she will raise once he forbids her from riding, or Mahal forbid going to the stables, or coming down here!”

“Indeed, that would be the ideal outcome,” Dwalin smirked, and Lofala, realizing what Dwalin was doing, found herself smiling as well at the cunning scheme. 

“I don't know if this is the right way to handle them, my love, but I fear we are running out of options. They are both so stubborn, he more than her. I only hope they realize how much they love each other before they tear the whole kingdom down,” she quipped as she lay her head back down on Dwalin’s chest. His heartbeat thumped under her cheek, strong and comforting, and she felt herself lulled into a peaceful state. 

“Was it not you that told me he just needed to see how much he needed her? And what better way than jealousy to prove such a point?” Dwalin’s grin grew. “And also, I told him about us. And about the baby.” 

Lofala’s head popped up in surprise. “Did you? And what did he say?” 

“He said he was happy. He congratulated me, and you.” Dwalin idly rubbed his lover’s shoulder and pressed her head so that she would lay back down. She reluctantly did so. “But I could see that he was saddened by it. And when I questioned him about Rowan, he grew irritated.”

“Well, it’s because he loves her, and he is too stubborn to admit it to anyone. And mostly himself!” 

“We all know that truth, love…” Dwalin began.

“Except him!” Lofala finished. “Why is he so hardheaded? He’s an idiot, that’s why!” 

“He’s a dwarf. Do I need to remind you of the stubbornness of our kind?”

“It didn’t take much convincing you, now did it?” Lofala peeked up at him, a smile on her face.

“Well, you are a very convincing lass,” Dwalin smiled back at her as she crawled up his strong body for a kiss. As Lofala pressed her lips, and then her body against his, Dwalin found he had no more words, and all his thoughts about Thorin and Rowan – and truly, anything outside of this room and this bed and this wonderfully-warm body pressed so tight against him –

_They all completely disappeared in the most delightful of ways…_

* * *

“How are you, lassie?” Balin asked Rowan as he came upon her. The girl smiled at him, though it was forced at best.

“I’m well. You?” Rowan shifted so that she could make room. She had begun coming to the ramparts when the nights had grown cooler, seeking fresh air to clear her head. And after seeing Thorin and Dwalin fighting the way they had earlier, she was left feeling sad, and needed to get away from the activity downstairs, and this seemed as a good a place as any. It was here that Balin found her, a book in her hand as she sat under one of the lamps. 

“I thought I might have a word with you at dinner, but I haven’t seen you much lately. I was informed you’d come this way, and I thought I might look for you.” He smiled. “And here you are.”

“I’ve been eating in my room,” Rowan answered. “It’s quieter there.”

“Less chance of running into those you’d rather not see as well, I’d imagine.” 

“There is that, too,” Rowan didn’t bother denying the obvious; She knew as well as he did that they were talking about Thorin. As the time stretched on, she grew tired of watching him from afar, and preferred to not see the king at all. It seemed easier that way, less painful. She closed her book and looked out into the far distance. “Do you know one time, your brother dragged me up here, and Thorin almost tossed me from this very wall?” 

Balin gaped at her, his bushy brows shot straight up to his hairline, and Rowan had to laugh at horror in his expression. 

“Worry not. It was a long time ago, Balin. And I’ve forgiven them both.”

“I can never apologize enough for either of them,” Balin shook his head. “Those were dark times, lassie. When we thought we might lose another of the king’s nephews. And the king himself, if I am being honest.” 

“Kili is one of my favorites,” Rowan smiled softly. “I can’t imagine my life without him, or any of you now that I’ve come to know you all. You’re all like family to me, even your brother. Dwalin and I have become quite pleasant with each other.” She scrunched her nose in a tease. “I dare say we might one day call each other friend, but I certainly don’t want to put the cart before the horse!”

“And what about Thorin?” Balin asked plainly. “What are your thoughts on him?” 

“Have you come to play matchmaker, Balin? Your brother tried, and it didn’t work then, either,” Rowan giggled, albeit sadly. “And, I regret to inform you, Thorin doesn’t want me any longer.” She frowned. “Truly, I don’t know if he ever did, now that I think about it. I can’t figure him out. So, my mother was completely wrong, I suppose.”

“What?” Balin’s brushy brows drew together as he tried to put all the pieces of this broken puzzle together. And, he was even more worried now about the message he needed to deliver to Rowan about her being forbidden from riding. He knew that she and Thorin were not doing so great, but he had no idea the depth of this whole mess, truth be told. 

“We have this thing, Balin, in my family, much like you dwarves have a _One._ We have what’s called a _Split-Apart_—”

“The other half of your soul,” Balin gave a gentle smile. “Aye, I know the old tales well, lassie.” 

“Well, when I was sick, my mother came to me in my dream and told me Thorin was mine.” Rowan looked down at her lap and fiddled with edge of her book. “It’s funny, isn’t it? Can you imagine what it’s like to finally find the one you are supposed to be with, only to find out that he doesn’t want you?” She hated the way her voice cracked with emotion. 

“Rowan, I am so sorry.” 

“By any rights, I should hate him. And I did hate him, for so long, Balin. But one day, something changed. I saw Thorin, I saw him for the dwarf he was, and for the dwarf that he could be. I saw his heart. I saw his courage. I saw his strength, and I saw him. Truly. And I fell in love with him. Somewhere between there and here, I fell in love with him. I only realized it when I was sat in that shed, waiting for death. It was only then that I realized exactly how much I loved him, that I would do anything for him.” She looked up, met his eyes, then quickly looked away with a sniffle. “But he doesn’t want me, and so now, it doesn’t matter.” 

“Oh, I think he does, lassie. I think Thorin cares for you, far more than even he realizes.” 

“He is not capable of love. Not at least that I’ve seen. Something has given him pause, and I can’t for the life of me figure it out.” She shrugged. “I thought we were good, that we were heading in the right direction, but we are further apart than we’ve ever been.” She looked at Balin again. “Did I do something wrong? Tell me truthfully, Balin, because no one else will, and I am going insane trying to figure it out.” 

“You did nothing wrong, lassie.” 

“I must have. Was it because I believed Halina, and I questioned him? Am I too insubordinate?” She quickly wiped at her eyes. “It’s because I’m not a dwarf, isn’t it? I’m something else entirely, that even I can’t quite explain - a witch - and Thorin finally realized that he could not be with someone who isn’t dwarf-kind. Is that it?” 

Balin sighed. “No, Rowan. Not one bit of that is true, least not how you are perceiving it. Thorin is the most hardheaded dwarf I’ve ever known, well, save for his grandfather. What I ask is that you give him time to sort things out, to process things in his head. That you don’t give up on him. I know the truth of the matter is that Thorin cares deeply for you, but I don’t suppose any amount of words from me will persuade you in any direction as to what you will or won’t do. And I can't fault you for wanting to live your life, in whatever way you see fit.” 

“No, they won’t,” Rowan answered, truthfully. 

“Will you stay here for a while? Or are you coming down?” Balin asked her. 

“I’m going to read a bit more. And I’m assuming you’re asking on account of one overbearing dwarf king, so please let his majesty know I’m fine up here, and he can call off his guards!” Rowan griped, yelling the last part of it over her shoulder to the guards that she knew were lurking in the stairwell. “You can tell him I’m not going to leap to my death…_just yet.”_

“Well, since you’ve broached the subject, I must be honest and further explain why I’ve come to seek you out in the first place,” Balin rested his hands behind his back, steeling his spine in preparation. 

“What?” Rowan asked, wariness creeping back in her tone. “Let me guess, he’s going to lock me up in the cell again?”

“No, but he has decreed that you are not allowed to ride with anyone,” Balin rushed out as quick as he could. Rowan was bristling, her lips pressed with anger, and he tried to extinguish the fire as quick as he could. “He is worried for your health, lassie. You must understand his job as the king is to protect you, and all his subjects, and if he deems it unsafe, then there is a good reason, I’m sure.”

“Balin, because I respect you and care about you, I’m not going to say what I really want to say about **Thorin Oakenshield!**” Rowan’s voice rose with every word, until she was nearly screaming when she got to his name. “But I know you will go to him, and tell him what we’ve spoken of, so please, do tell him that he does not own me, nor does he control me, and make sure he understands that I will do as I damned well please with my life!!” She slammed her book shut for emphasis. “And that includes who I spend my time with! He has no say in my life!” 

Balin gasped, wanting to find some way to make her see reason, but he knew she would not, and so he let her be, and made his way back down the stairs. 

Rowan sat there, watching him depart, silently fuming. As much as she wanted to leave this place just to spite Thorin, she knew in her heart she wasn’t ready to leave Erebor. Or him. A part of her stubbornly refused to give up on him, at least just yet. And there was still the huge question of where would she go, if she did leave? She was still having nightmares, still having anxiety, still sometimes too afraid to go in the stable, and she’d not once entered her former house. Her things sat inside just as she left them, what little she couldn’t take with her to Halina’s the day she’d tried to leave. All was just as she’d left it, and she had not the courage to go inside and sort through it. She leaned her head back against the stone wall and let her eyes fall on the lights of the city down below, and she wondered how her simple life had come to this, and more importantly, how would she ever find her way out of it…


	57. Chapter 57

The same night, and at that very moment, Thorin was sat in his war room, eating alone, nursing his ill temper, and wishing his headache would go away. He knew he could go and find Rowan and ask for her help, but his pride wouldn’t let him. Besides, he’d done nothing but ignore her for the past few weeks, so he was sure she’d shun him as he’d shunned her. And, he was almost entirely sure she would be very angry with him after hearing that he’d disallowed her from riding. She probably hated him, all things considered. He took another drink, knowing it was what he deserved, but hating it nonetheless. He was trying to figure things out, he was. He just needed some time to sort through, to...to make sense...

Dwalin’s revelation stuck in his head, and despite how happy he was for his friend, he couldn’t deny how_ unhappy_ he was that it was not him that was having such a thing to celebrate. He leaned back in his chair, and steepled his hands before his face. Maybe he was meant to be alone forever? Or maybe he needed to go to Rowan and beg her forgiveness, to plead on his hands and knees for her to take him back, to forgive him his stupidity and understand his shortcomings, and know full-well that he might not be able to do it all? Would she be content with him, with his propensity to slip into madness, and for the possibility that he might be nothing more than a mediocre king, and most likely, a not-so-great father? He swallowed the sadness down with another gulp of ale. His fear of failure would keep him company tonight, and his self-doubt would keep him rooted in his chair, so that he would not get answers to his questions. Least not tonight. His thoughts turned to his childhood, to his brother, Frerin, and his sister, Dis. They'd had their mother's affection, as had he, but he'd been taken under his grandfather and father's tutelage long before he was ready. 

_What example had he had, truly?_ He snorted.

He felt guilty for even questioning his father and grandfather’s child-rearing, and perhaps his mother's, for he knew that he had never had the childhood that some had, but it was not because they were not a good dwarven family. They were kings of the greatest kingdom in Middle Earth, and as such, they had a greater responsibility than most could even fathom. And that responsibility was now passed down to him. He had been educated in ruling, had been trained for war from an early age, and had witnessed more death and destruction than most dwarves before he’d even seen his adolescent years. Dragon fire. Their home stolen and being forced to wander the wilds in homelessness. The battles where he’d lost his grandfather, and then when his father had gone missing. Losing his mother, his brother and his sister, and then his dear nephew. And now, he was holding onto Erebor by a thread, just barely having escaped the gold sickness that plagued so many in his family’s line. He was just now settling in and feeling comfortable with his reign, but it was a tenuous acceptance at best. And Dwalin was having a child. Bringing a new life into Erebor. Thorin frowned, wondering how he would handle such a thing if it were him, and not Dwalin. He had not had a childhood, not truly. Had never had the chance or the time to just be. So how on this earth would he ever be able to raise a family of his own, and do it well, with such terrible examples having been shown him? Guilt ate at him in a fresh wave, and he took another large drink to wash it down. There was no doubt he was proud of his lineage and who he was, but there were times when he wished he had not the cares that the others did. That he could just be Thorin, and not the king. His thoughts turned to Rowan. Would she still love Thorin, and not the king? And would she be able to love him when he was the king, and could not be just Thorin? Could she love both when she needed to? His hand shook as he lifted the tankard again. 

A knock came at the door, jarring him from his thoughts. He called for them to enter, the door opened, and his friend appeared. 

“Balin.” Thorin forced a smile. “What brings you by at such a late hour?” 

“A word, with you, laddie. May I?” 

“Of course,” Thorin nodded, waving him in, and Balin entered the room, closing the door behind him. Balin surveyed the sight before him, the room in disarray, the empty bottles of ale. The papers strewn about. His pale eyes landed on Thorin with worry. 

“I think you can imagine why I’ve come, Thorin.” Balin began, and Thorin nodded. _Rowan._ “But first, are you alright, laddie?” 

“I’m well. How are you?” Thorin forced another smile as he shuffled in his seat. 

“Well, I’ll speak plainly then. I’ve just come from delivering the news that she’s not allowed to ride, and you can imagine how that went over, I’m sure.” Balin waved a dismissive hand in the air when the king began to protest. “But enough about that. You do realize that Rowan is not Halla, and Halla is not Rowan?” 

Thorin choked on his drink, sputtering and coughing before he quickly recovered. “Spare me your sarcasm, Balin. I am no fool.” Thorin glowered as he took another drink, still clearing his throat, very much caught off-guard at being confronted in such a way that he was not even remotely prepared for. 

“You are a fool, son! If you think you can go on like this, and she can go on like that!” 

Thorin snorted into his glass. 

“You have a chance, Thorin. A chance at a new life, a good life, one full of love and happiness, and all the things I know you desire, and you are throwing it away on some misguided sense of what? Responsibility to Erebor? To us?” 

“I am the king, Balin. And as such, I have responsibilities that none of you will ever have. They are mine, and mine alone. From my grandfather to my father, the rule of Erebor has come to me, and I must see it through, until such a time as someone else sits upon this throne.” Thorin took another drink, his eyes blazing, though his hands shook with emotion. 

“And must you do it alone?” Balin queried softly, earning another glare from his king. “I have just come from seeing Rowan. She is distraught, Thorin. And now, she is angry. With you. Angry enough to leave this place and you. For good. And this time, I think she just might do it”

“Balin…” Thorin warned, but the old dwarf paid no mind. 

“No, Thorin! Now you listen, I have followed you through all sorts of peril. The loss of our home, the exile in the wilds. The quest. The battle. The loss of Fili. And now, Thorin, it’s over. We are finished. We have completed that which we set out to do, and we can relax. You can relax. And you can be happy, laddie.”

“I am happy,” Thorin stated simply. “I have my kingdom. My nephew is happy. My family and friends, all are safe and happy. Erebor is rebuilding. I have much to be grateful for.”

“And you have a lass down the hall that loves you, Thorin. More than you know, and yet you are acting as if you have all the time in the world to take with her. Are you mad?” Balin threw up his hands. 

Thorin gave a deep sigh, and bowed his head. Defeated and resigned. “There is so much that you don’t know, nor do you understand, Balin.” 

“Then make me understand so that I may help you, son! She is not Halla. That is all I, or you, or anyone else need know. She loves you, and you love her. What is so bloody complicated about that?” 

“Don’t—” Thorin held up a finger in Balin’s direction, but the old dwarf was relentless. 

“Do you know what it’s like to wake up next to the one you love, Thorin? And then, to wake up one day and find that they are no longer there?” Balin’s eyes had filled with tears of remembrance. “Because I do! I do! And that is what happens, Thorin. One day they are here, and then one day they are gone. And you will regret every moment you didn’t spend with them. And you are a fool if you think she will wait forever for you!”

Thorin swallowed, his throat constricting with emotion. 

“How can I trust her, Balin? And more importantly, how can I trust myself? How can I be a king, a good king, and give so much of myself to her?” Thorin bowed his head and cupped his forehead in his hands. “I forget myself when I am with her, Balin. I forget my place, who I am, what I should be doing, and all I can focus on is her. My every waking moment, all my thoughts, are solely focused on if she is safe.” 

Thorin stood up and began pacing. “Every day, I live with the knowledge of how blinded I was with Halla and her sister. I have voices in my head, Balin. Voices that scream at me and tell me how I’ve failed. Have you forgotten all the mistakes I’ve made? I lost Fili because of my choices, Balin. He died because of me!” Thorin jammed a finger into his chest. “I killed an innocent man on the word of the woman I loved, and only because I was trying to defend her honor. When she had no honor, Balin.” Thorin’s voice hitched. “And Rowan? Every day, and every time that I see her, I remember the sound my belt made when I hit her, Balin. I see her face, the terror I put in her mind when I brutalized her. I am no better. The voices…they remind me daily that I no more than one misstep back into that sickness that nearly claimed my sanity. How can I be both, Balin? How can I be what she needs me to be and what Erebor needs me to be, when I have never been able to be any of it?” 

Balin took a seat and gave a weary sigh. “Are you done, laddie? Done feeling sorry for yourself, done making excuses?” 

Thorin said nothing as he continued pacing. 

Balin tilted his head, and asked: “What are you most afraid of?”

“Losing it all,” came Thorin’s whispered response. He turned his gaze on Balin. “I am terrified that once I let my guard down, it is all going to slip right through my fingers.” 

“And so, by not committing to any of it, it will make that loss easier to bear?” Balin tugged at his beard, deep in thought. “When, and if, the loss comes, mind you. Is that your pigheaded logic?”

Thorin shrugged as he turned away and stood before his window. His fingers dug into the stone, scratching restlessly at it. “It is easier if I stay disconnected.”

“Do you not think Rowan is strong enough to withstand all of those fears and doubts?” Balin gently argued. “We’ve seen that lass go through so much—”

_“Much of it at my hands!”_ Thorin hissed with deep self-hatred.

“Yes, some at your hands, and yet she is still here, laddie. Still here for you, and you alone.” The old dwarf stepped closer. “I dare say she could have any man, elf, or dwarf she wanted, but she’s chosen you. How can you not see what we all plainly see?”

“She’s innocent, Balin. She doesn’t know what she needs, not truly.” 

“And that’s you trying to control her, like you want to control everything else, laddie. And it's all done out of fear, and nothing more.” Balin was weary of talking in such circles. Hardheaded, the both of them. And he was very quickly coming around to Dwalin’s idea of locking them both in the cell just to force some kind of talk between the pair. Thorin stood quietly, absorbed in his thoughts. 

“Listen, I’m not going to try and convince you further, as I am tired of this. Of all of it. And Thorin, son, I have never known you to be a coward. Please don’t start now.” Balin walked to the door. “One more thing…In case you were wondering. Rowan is up at the ramparts. Alone.” Balin gave the king another look. “She doesn’t seem to be feeling well. Perhaps you should do your duty and go and check on her. The last time she was up there, she nearly fell.” 

Balin was gone before Thorin could turn and give him a look of sheer terror.

* * *

“Balin said you were feeling unwell,” Thorin explained as he came up the steps and saw her sitting under the lamp. She looked so small, so alone, and he hated himself for putting her in such a position. He shoved his hands at his waist to keep from reaching for her. She startled, momentarily, and then resumed reading her book. Ignoring him. Thorin came closer, his eyes warily eying the distance between her and the edge of the stone wall. He looked at her again. 

“Aren’t you cold up here?” 

“I’m fine,” came her terse reply. Thorin frowned. 

“How is your leg?” 

“It’s fine.” 

Thorin grit his teeth. He wanted to ask her why she was so short with him, but he already knew the answer. He wanted to ask why she was way up here, away from everyone, but he was sure he knew that answer, too. He looked around, desperately searching for anything to talk about, and found there was nothing to say that wouldn’t get him a one-word response from her. 

“Do you want me to leave?” He asked her, and she shrugged.

“It’s your kingdom, do what you want.” Rowan huffed. 

“Are you planning on ignoring me from now until eternity?” He found himself asking, and immediately regretted the words when Rowan’s head popped up, and he saw the anger flash across her features. He held his hands up in warning as she lifted her book. “Do not throw that damned book at me.” 

“You’re lucky I adore this book, or else I would have.” She stood up, grabbing her things. “And I’m the one ignoring you? You’re ridiculous.” 

“You need to stop behaving so recklessly,” Thorin muttered out as he stepped closer to her. His hand snaked out and held her at her forearm. “Please. You have to be more…_responsible._” 

Rowan snatched her arm from him. “I don’t have to do anything.” 

Thorin closed his eyes, and bowed his head. “Please. I’m asking you to just take care of yourself.” 

“And I’m asking you to leave me alone, Thorin,” Rowan replied. Her damned eyes had welled with tears, and she hated herself and him and all this pain. It was like every time she saw him, every time she got close like this, she wanted to break down, the pain as if a fresh wound was being ripped open again. When would it ever stop hurting? “And why do you care what I do or who I do it with or how I do it? Why do you care?” 

“Do you really not know?” Thorin asked, his hands splayed in front of him. 

“At one point, I thought I did,” Rowan sniffed. “But now, I don’t know anymore.”

Thorin walked over to the edge of the rampart, and ran his hand along it’s rough surface. He frowned. “I am surprised that you would come up here, given…well…after…” his voice trailed off. 

“After you and Dwalin threatened to throw me from it?” Rowan sarcastically finished. She saw as Thorin’s back stiffened. 

“He is having a baby. He and Lofala.” Thorin continued looking out over the edge of the stone wall, his eyes on Dale. 

Rowan smiled despite her sadness at her own affairs. “A baby? Imagine that. Dwalin finding someone to love him. I guess there’s hope for all of us then.” She ducked her chin to not let him see how teary she’d become. 

“Do you know that I almost lost my mind with her,” Thorin abruptly changed subjects. “We were going to have a baby, and I was willing to uproot the whole of Erebor to have that family. I killed someone without knowing if they were innocent or guilty, and all on her word alone.” 

“And I am not Halla.” Rowan felt her back stiffen at his insinuation. “I have never asked for anything from you, and I don’t care about this blasted throne or this kingdom!” 

“But they are part of me, Rowan,” Thorin turned to her. “They are me, and I am them.” 

“And I told you how I feel,” Rowan shrugged her shoulders. “And you didn’t care.” 

Thorin stepped closer, and this time, Rowan didn’t back down. They were inches apart, and she lifted her chin in opposition. The king closed his eyes and sighed; his head bowed at his chest as he agitatedly pinched the bridge of his nose. Rowan waited, her eyes on him. 

“Look, Rowan…I was wrong. _I am wrong._ Much has been revealed to me, and I am trying to sort through things. And I am trying to figure things out, but I need time to make sure I’m doing the right thing by my kingdom.” He looked down at her, and in his blue eyes, Rowan saw some emotion that seemed almost fearful. Unsure. Vulnerable. For a moment, she faltered, as she knew exactly what he was feeling. But she was also tired of playing this game with him, and she began to wonder if Lofala was wrong, and that she and Thorin were much too far apart for any kind of repair to be made. 

“I needed you, Thorin. I need you." Rowan stated quietly. “I am alone here. You left me alone after that mess with Halina, and I needed you. And I need you now.” She hugged herself. “And now you’re asking for time? To do what? Decide if it’s compatible for me and you and Erebor? What kind of request is that?”

“Rowan, please, you don’t understand.” He reached for her, but she moved out of his grasp.

“No, I don’t understand. I told you I loved you. And you know what you said in return? You said, go to sleep.” She shook her head and gave a derisive laugh. “Go to sleep, you said.” 

“You were not well, love. That was no time to discuss our affairs.” 

Rowan huffed out another angry laugh. “So, let me guess, once you get Erebor sorted out, and once you get yourself sorted out, then maybe you might decide that it’s the right time to discuss our affairs, as you so delicately put it?” She shook her head as she adjusted her blanket and book. “You are ridiculous. And I don’t know why I bother with you. I really don’t. I may be naïve in the ways of the world and in romantic relationships, but I am no idiot.” 

The king stepped forward, but Rowan held up a finger to stop him. 

“Don’t. Don’t touch me. Don’t bother me. Don’t even pretend to act like you care.” She adjusted her bag and her blanket, then turned angry eyes on the king. “And one more thing. I will ride with whoever I see fit, and I will go wherever I choose. You will not command me, and I am not your property. So, unless you think to lock me up in that damned cell, then you have no say in what I do. In fact, don’t even speak to me unless you’re willing to fix this mess between us. And until such a time comes –if it ever will! –you will leave me alone to go about my life as I see fit. With or without you in it.”

Rowan stomped off, leaving Thorin alone at the ramparts, his mood going just as frigid as the falling temperatures around him. 


	58. Chapter 58

Two days later, Thorin and Dwalin were coming in from a long day of training at the grounds. They were leading some of the newer recruits sent in by Dain Ironfoot though battle formations, and all were exhausted in the best of ways. A good day of training was just what Thorin needed to keep his mind off the strife between him and Rowan, and so far, it was working. Sort of. He worked himself to exhaustion each day, battering his body and exhausting his mind until all he could do was fall into his bed in a bone-weary heap. Then, he'd wake up and do it all over again the next day. They trekked in through the halls, removing armor and mail, dropping off weapons, and kicking off boots. Their piles of wet clothing were dropped off with a servant, leaving them clad in only their pants and bare feet, and before long, the pair was in the Great Hall, warming up by the fire, and sharing bottles of ale as they renewed their friendship. It wasn’t long before Balin rejoined them, his curiosity piqued and his heart happy at finding out that peace had not only been obtained but had withstood. Overall, things were going well this day…_at least until the king caught a glimpse of her. _

His eyes narrowed, his vision going icy as he saw her and him. She was sat on the far side of hall, her back to him, and she was playing chess with another person. His grip on his bottle increased so much that Dwalin had to forcibly remove it from his hand lest he break the bottle into a thousand tiny pieces. 

“Easy, brother,” Dwalin urged as Thorin leaned forward for a better look. Dwalin’s eyes met Balin’s over the king’s head, and they passed a knowing look between themselves.

“Who is that she’s with?”

“That would be Bior, one of the horse traders from Dale.” Kili answered, innocently. “He’s been showing Rowan some new riding techniques from what I hear.” 

Thorin’s vision now went red, any remaining good humor gone as his mind sobered, and before he knew what he was doing, he had marched himself over to her and him, his fists clenched at his sides as he peered down at the pair. Rowan looked up, her smile melting as she saw it was him. A look of annoyance settled on her face.

Thorin was just as annoyed. _Why were they playing chess? That was their game, his and hers, damnit!_

“What do you want?” She tossed at him as she focused on the board in front of her. He ignored her for his attention was on the man, Bior, that stood up, and Thorin was instantly annoyed at how tall the man was. He was even more annoyed that he had to look up at him. Bastard human. 

“Who are you, and what are you doing in my halls?” 

“I’m Bior, my lord. Of Rohan. And it is an immense pleasure to be welcomed into Erebor!” The man reached out for Thorin’s hand as was the custom of humans upon introduction, but he awkwardly dropped his hand when Thorin did not return the friendly gesture. 

“Don’t get comfortable. I did not invite you here,” Thorin swiftly advised. His eyes darted back to Rowan. She was still ignoring him, her fingers worrying with her lower lip in that most infuriating of ways as she focused on her pieces on the board. “Rowan. I would have a word with you.” 

“I’m busy,” Rowan waved him off with a flick of her hand, and Thorin’s vision went even more red as she so rudely rejected him in front of this man. He reached out, took her waving hand, and hauled her up. He dragged her with him out into the hallway, no care for the eyes that were watching him and her with curious interest. 

“You think it clever, this little game?” Thorin hissed as his eyes looked over her shoulder to land on Bior again. “How dare you bring him into my hall, to taunt me!” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, since I didn’t invite him in,” Rowan shrugged, as she too, looked over her shoulder at her friend and gave a fond smile. “Maybe you should ask Dwalin, since he was dealing with Bior long before I was. And does it matter? He’s very nice, and he’s teaching me so much about horses.” 

“You are not even barely recovered! And I told you, you weren’t to be riding, nor should you even be at the blasted stables!” Thorin snapped. His mind was reeling as his temper flared. _Dwalin invited this man in? How was this possible??_ Thorin struggled to rein in his temper, even though his head felt like it might explode from all the pressure building inside. 

“I'm fine. You’d know that if you didn’t continue to ignore me. And you do not control me, Thorin, as much as you’d like to pretend otherwise,” Rowan reminded him. Unable to help herself, her eyes drifted down to his bare chest, and she frowned at the new scratches and multiple bruises. Without thinking, she reached out and traced the edge of one with her finger, her frown deepening. Thorin looked down to watch what she was doing, his mouth going dry as she touched him. He wanted to close his eyes and relish it, to brand it in his memory to hold him over until the next time, if there ever was one. 

She traced another purple mark on his skin, the crease between her eyes going deeper with her displeasure. “Is this from Dwalin?” 

“Probably. I’ve seen you watching us,” Thorin’s voice was thick as her fingers traced over his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake. 

She nodded, and replied, “Yes, but I can’t watch for very long.”

“Why?” 

"I know it's just training, but I don't like when you get hurt," she quietly admitted, as her hand traced over another mark on his chest. There were so many new ones. 

"You are worried about me?" Thorin asked, slightly bemused. 

“Would you care if I was?” Rowan looked up at him, and for a moment, Thorin had this insane thought that he might wrap his arms around her and hug her so tight that she’d never have a thought of anyone else. Voices in his head screamed at him, reminded him that he could not give her so much power over him, that he had a responsibility. He frowned, and Rowan sighed. 

“So, nothing has changed, then. You still don’t want me.” Dejection was heavy in her tone, and in the droop of her shoulders. 

“That is so far from the truth, little one.” Thorin stepped closer, so close that Rowan could see the freckles on his skin, and every individual hair. She gave a deep breath, hugged herself, and stepped back. 

“Well, I guess you won’t mind then, if I spend my time with those that do want me.” And with that, Rowan turned on her heel, and walked away, leaving Thorin to fume in the shadows as she returned to Bior. He gritted his teeth, and his fists continued clenching and unclenching as she bestowed the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen on that…that…human. When Bior reached across the table, placed his pawn to take hers, and they both laughed so fucking happily, Thorin quickly stepped out from the shadows, his intent to charge in like a bull and destroy that man. It was only Dwalin’s hand at his shoulder that held him back.

“Easy brother. You don’t want to make a scene, now.”

“I don’t give a damn about a scene. I only wish to rip his head off with my bare hands,” Thorin seethed. 

Dwalin chuckled. “And that would definitely make a scene.”

“And I don’t care!” Thorin hissed, his fists clenching and unclenching as he stared the pair of them down. Jealousy flared white-hot in his veins, clouding all his better judgement, and sucking away reasoning, until all he could imagine was his hands wrapped around that man’s throat as he choked the life from his body. He inched closer, but Dwalin held fast. 

“And that is why we need to leave this place, my friend.” Dwalin steered a reluctant Thorin away from the hall and ushered him down to another room, one much quieter and away from curious eyes. Thorin pressed his fingers at the space on his nose between his eyes, pinching away the headache as he tried to calm his frayed nerves. And why was his blasted heart pounding so hard? 

“Who is that she is with?” His voice sounded gruff, even to his own ears, and he forced himself to breathe. Just breathe. 

“That’s Bior,” Dwalin reminded him. “I told you about him only last week.” 

“You may have, but what is he doing in my kingdom? In my halls? And what, pray tell, is he doing with her?” Thorin turned his icy gaze on his friend. “And did you invite him in? She insinuated you did.”

“I have been meeting with him, as we talk of horses and breeding his stallion with one of our mares in exchange for some jewel work. And I suppose he’s taken an interest in Rowan,” Dwalin surmised. “And it seems she’s returning the gesture, what with all the time they spend together as of late.” 

Thorin’s head snapped around again, his eyes wide then narrowed. “What do you mean, all the time they spend together?” 

“She’s with him most days, or so I’ve heard,” Dwalin explained. “In fact, I have it on good authority that she wants to move back down into her home so that they can spend more time together.” 

The king slammed his fist into the wall, and the sickening sound of bone and flesh meeting made Dwalin wince just a tad bit. He wished there was some other way, but Thorin was being impossibly stubborn, so he needed to appeal to his pride and jealousy if he was ever going to get those two together. The only other alternative was to lock them in the wine cellar, and hope for the best. He was not above that option, truth be told. He just managed to keep it together long enough for Thorin to stomp out of the room, and only broke into a smile once the king was fully out of sight. From the side hall, Lofala sidled up to him, looping her arm about his waist. She stared after their king, a worried look on her face. 

“He’s very angry.”

“Indeed,” Dwalin remarked as he pressed a kiss at her forehead. 

“Do you think it’ll work?” 

“Did you ask Rowan about moving back?” 

“I did. Just this morn. She seemed agreeable to it, what with the baby coming and all.” She hugged her partner. “And she’s very angry with Thorin, still. I think she might want to move back just to spite him.”

“Then it’s only a matter of time before Thorin denies her request, and she gets mad, and confronts him.” 

"I told her she needed to confront him about it all, but she's very hesitant, my love."

Dwalin laughed again. "Well, I'm sure once she finds out she's not going to be allowed to move, she'll lose her fear and go after him. She is feisty. And just what he needs."

With a small laugh, Lofala hugged him tighter, and the pair retired to Dwalin’s chambers. 

His plan was working just fine, and if he knew Thorin as well as he thought he did, it wouldn’t be much longer before Rowan would be raining hell down on them all. 


	59. Chapter 59

**The very next day…**

“Get out of my way, Dwalin!” 

Rowan was hissing as she barreled her way through first Dwalin, and then the two guards that stood near the Great Hall entrance. It was breakfast time, and she was sure the bastard was here somewhere. She opened the door, and marched inside, and with one quick glance, she saw that he was indeed there, sitting with Balin and Kili. He had his food, yes, but also papers spread about before him, along with a map, and she grew even more annoyed at the fact that he was conducting business down here rather than in his war room as usual. The dwarves on the king’s left and right were shocked, their eyes going wide as they saw the state Rowan was in, and before he was even asked, Kili scooped up his food and exited the hall. The maids and serving staff peered from behind doors and alcoves, their curiosity got the better of them. Thorin’s eyes met hers in a lazy challenge that only added fuel to the already burning fire in her veins. 

“So, first you forbid from riding, and now you’ve decided that Bior isn’t allowed to come here. Let me guess, you’re going to go back on your word and forbid me to move back to my home?” Rowan hissed. She cut her eyes at Balin. “Did you know about this?” 

Balin gaped, his white brows up as his eyes went wide, but Thorin got there first. 

“Of course he did,” Thorin remarked as he casually lifted his cup of ale and took a drink. “He’s my advisor, he knows all.” 

Infuriated, Rowan picked up the closest thing to her – a half-full glass of ale – and chucked it at Thorin’s face. It hit him square in the chest, and his shirt became soaked with the dark, amber liquid. The king sat there, looking dumbfounded and wet as first shock, and then anger came over him; He glared at Rowan. Balin cleared his throat and stood, uncomfortable with the whole mess, and not for the first time did he wonder about his brother’s hairbrained plan. 

“I’ll leave you both to it, then.” The old dwarf carried his food and drink away and ordered the wait staff and servants to vacate the hall as war was about to break out. The door closed behind them.

“Thorin?” Dwalin called from the front entrance. The king tilted his head at the dwarven warrior, answering his unspoken question. 

“Leave us.” 

Dwalin gave a look towards Rowan, and she shook her head at him in warning. 

“Go away, Dwalin. This is between me and him.” 

Dwalin smirked as he closed the door behind him, and just as he did so, Rowan set into the king with a fury. 

“So, all these weeks of hiding and avoiding, and I finally see just how much of a scheming bastard you are. You’re a coward, Thorin. And, I’m just here to tell you that I am moving out. This little stunt, this is the last straw! I am done!” Rowan proclaimed. “And furthermore, you will not tell me who I can or cannot spend my time with!” 

“Be that as it may, you are not allowed to move out of the royal wing,” Thorin tipped his chin at her, giving off such an air of authority that Rowan saw red. She placed her hands on her hips, and leaned towards him.

“Well, since you’ve rejected me over and over, and I am not your property, I will do what I want. Or are we forgetting the conversation we had before when you agreed that I could move out?” Rowan nodded as she tapped a finger at her lips. “Yes, I believe that you said I could, which is why I have a residence down there now. And I am going back, whether you like it or not! Lofala needs me!” 

“The answer is no.” 

“Well, I don’t answer to you any more, do I, Thorin!” Rowan screeched. “You gave that up when you gave me up.” She was annoyed at herself, annoyed at how heartbroken she sounded. What she wouldn’t give for a little more dignity on her part. She blinked rapidly, praying Thorin wouldn’t see the tears pooling in her eyes, but words just kept spilling from her mouth, unbidden and unwanted, and embarrassing.

“I feel like you just want me unhappy. You just want me to be miserable. You don’t want me, but no one else can have me, is that right? Am I supposed to be alone and miserable forever? Dwalin and Lofala can be happy. Kili and Tauriel. Everyone’s allowed to be happy, but me. I think I deserve to know why.” 

Thorin’s grip on the papers in his hand grew as she confronted him. 

“And you still just sit there like a big dumb idiot!!” Rowan snorted as she flung her hands up in the air. “Just tell me why. _Why, Thorin?_ Why can’t you just let me be? And why don’t you want me any longer?” She found herself asking despite telling herself not to.

The king stiffened but did not look up from the papers that he was now occupying himself with. Rowan’s anger grew, competing with her sadness. She just wanted to choke him, or hug him, or slap him, or wrap her arms around him! Her whole body was shaking with frustration that she had no idea what to do with. 

“Why didn’t you just let me die, Thorin? If all you were going to do was break my heart, why didn’t you just leave me out there and let me die?”  
  
First she’d been told by Balin that she was forbidden to go riding. Then she’d been informed that Bior was banned from Erebor. And now, to hear that she was disallowed from moving out!! Well, she’d had enough of his heavy hand. After venting with Lofala, she had decided to confront the king, just as her friend had advised. Lofala had encouraged her to do so, and she was sure that Thorin would give in, if Rowan would just confront him head on. And honestly, as she’d thought out her words carefully, and practiced yelling at him in her mirror, coming here and giving him this ultimatum had sounded so great in theory. It had sounded like the best of plans. But now that it was happening and he wasn’t reacting the way she hoped he would, she started to have doubts. Why wasn’t he arguing with her? Why wouldn’t he fight for her? Did he not care at all? 

“Don’t say such idiotic things!” Thorin finally snapped, and Rowan was glad to get something   
from him. 

“Stop telling me what to say and what to feel!” Rowan screamed back. “If you knew that you would just bring me back and pretend that nothing had ever happened between us, then why did you come in the first place? Why didn’t you just leave me there?” 

The king said nothing, sitting there in his stubbornness like a wall of stone. 

“Ohhh! I hate you, Thorin!” Rowan screamed at him, completely at her wits end. 

“Good,” came his clipped response, and Rowan’s eyes welled with fresh tears. 

“What if I said I was in love with someone else?” Rowan challenged, feeling entirely hopeless. Thorin gave an audible shudder of a breath. 

“I would have no choice but to accept it, though I would hate it with every fiber of my being.” His hands shook when he lifted some papers and distractedly moved them around. 

“And what if I said I loved you? What if I said that again? Do you remember when I admitted that, Thorin?” She stepped closer, her voice hitching on his name. “What if I said that again?” 

“I would tell you that you should not care for me.” 

It was at this point, that Thorin finally looked up as he mumbled those words, and in his eyes, Rowan saw the raw anguish reflected back at her, and her heart broke for him. This was not a game for him – he truly believed that he was not good for her, and that there was no way she could love him as she professed. Dwalin and Balin’s words struck her like a sledgehammer, and she realized what was happening between them. What Dwalin meant when he said it was going to have to be her that forced the king’s hand. What a mess. 

It was in that moment that she decided their fate; from one breath to the next, she made the decision to fight for them and for him. She knew that at this point, if she wanted things to change between them, she was going to have to be the one to force his hand, that it was just as Dwalin had said. She went to him, and placed her palm at his cheek, and he jerked as if he’d been shocked. He tried to pull back, but she launched herself into his lap and clung to his neck. She wrapped herself around him like lichen, draping herself over him and holding tight. She was not going to let him go. Not this time. 

“You are so stupid, do you know that? A big, dumb stupid dwarf!” Rowan clung tighter to his neck. She pressed kisses at his jaw, his temple, along his cheeks – anywhere she could reach, over and over again, until finally she sealed her lips to his. He sat, stiff as a board, until finally she felt his fingers grasp the fabric at her waist and hold her tightly. 

“Kiss me back,” she murmured against his lips, and then he did, and she was lost, and so was he.

They kissed. It was as if a dam broke, and all the weeks and months of hurt and unhappiness flooded out, making the kiss both painful and bittersweet, at first bruising and crushing, until finally, it became sweet and soft and everything she ever wanted. After the initial clash of his lips against hers, he gave her a sweet nibble, and finally pulled back with a ragged breath, though his forehead was still pressed at hers. His eyes were closed as Rowan caressed his cheeks, and he shook in her arms. The way he held onto her; It was as if he was afraid she might disappear on him. Rowan gave a bemused smile, still not certain what was going on in that handsome head of his, but she was determined to find out. 

“Tell me what you’re afraid of, Thorin,” she kissed his nose, his forehead, his cheeks. “Talk to me, please.” 

“I do not deserve you,” he finally admitted, out loud to himself and to her. “And one day, you will realize that, and you will surely kill me when you leave me.” 

His eyes slowly opened, and whatever humor Rowan was entertaining due to his overdramatic antics washed away as she saw in his eyes that he absolutely believed what he was saying to be true. The fear that was reflected back at her from the haunted depths of his blue eyes pulled at her heart. His had face gone pale, his lips were tightly pressed, and Rowan felt sadness permeate every inch of her soul as she realized how very scared this great dwarven warrior was. How vulnerable he was in this very moment with her. 

“Thorin, I love you.” 

“Halla said she loved me, too,” he quietly charged, and Rowan’s heart stuttered in her chest at the pain lodged so deeply in his words. 

“She did not love you, Thorin.” Rowan cupped his cheeks in her hands and forced his eyes to hers. She shook her head and held his gaze. “She said she did, but her actions proved otherwise. She did not love you, not like I do.” She kissed his nose again. “And she was a fool to throw away such a dwarf as you.” 

“I hurt you,” he sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, and sniffed as his eyes suddenly became red-rimmed. “So badly. It is…unforgivable what I did to you. You cannot forgive me for all I’ve put you through. How can you forgive me for that?” 

“Are you going to take that choice away from me, too?” Rowan smirked. “Or am I allowed to decide what is unforgivable or not?” 

Thorin’s eyes met hers, the blue of his iris’ a stark contrast to the red that streaked through the whites, and she loved him even more for this vulnerable part of his soul he was revealing to her. She kissed his royal nose again. 

“You are the other half of my soul, Thorin. Whether you want it to be or not, whether I wanted it to be or not, it is just that.” Rowan caressed his cheeks and gently tugged at his beard. “I was made for you and from you, and for no other. So, if you choose to turn me away again, and that is a choice you have, just know that there is no one else for me. If I can’t be with you, I will never be whole.”

“You are giving me too much, little one,” Thorin was shaking as he pressed his nose at the crook of her neck. 

“I’m giving you everything, and it will never be as much as I want to give you.” 

Thorin looked at her, his eyes bloodshot and wary: “But why?” 

“Because I love you, you silly dwarf. Did you not hear me when I said you were my soulmate?” She gave him a teary, wobbly smile, and kissed him again. “And if I have to be the one to be strong right now, then I will be. Until you realize just how much I love and care about you.” 

Thorin hugged her tight, his strong arms coming around her and crushing her to his chest, and Rowan couldn’t help but giggle into his neck. He kissed her shoulder, her arm, any part of her he could find, and then pulled back, caressing her cheek with one hand as his eyes met hers. There was a light in his eyes, a twinkling that wasn’t there before, making the blue that much more vivid. His eyes roamed her face, then held her gaze once more. One corner of his beautiful mouth was lifted in a smile. 

“You love me?” 

“Completely.” Rowan nodded. 

“I love you, Rowan,” Thorin breathed out, a beautiful smile forming on his face. Rowan started giggling, hugging him, and kissing him all over his handsome face. Thorin did the same, the sound of his laughter and happiness echoing through the Great Hall.

“Took you long enough to admit that,” Rowan teased. The smile slid from Thorin’s face, though the love in his eyes was more than enough. 

“I have loved you for a long time, my beauty. I just had not the courage to tell you, and I worried you’d not love me in return. Not truly.” Thorin pressed his forehead at her chest and snuggled in. “I think I realized it that day we went on the ride to your home. When I put your mother’s necklace around your neck, I wanted so badly for that to be a courting gift.”

Rowan hugged him tight, remembering how he was wounded that day. 

“I never believed someone like you could care for someone like me,” the king continued, his words a whisper. “And even now, it seems but a dream, and if I don’t hold you tight enough, you will disappear from me.” He squeezed her tight. “I do not wish to wake up from this dream, Rowan.”

Rowan kissed his temple and then his forehead and hugged him again as tight as she could manage. “It’s not a dream, Thorin. I love you. And only you. And I’m not going anywhere.” 

The king looked up, and again, his eyes were bloodshot with his sentiment. Rowan felt her own eyes well with fresh tears at how full of emotion Thorin was, and her heart swelled with love for him. All she could manage was a wobbly smile, and another squeeze, and then Thorin was standing up, lifting her in his arms, and cradling her like a baby to his strong chest. 

“Where are we going?” Rowan whispered at his ear as he pulled open the door and stepped in the hall. It appeared deserted, but she’d never know, because she had her eyes closed and her face pressed at his neck. Her only focus was on him.

“Upstairs. Away from prying eyes and gossip so that I may kiss you as much as I want.” Thorin replied, his steps steady and sure as he walked them up the stairs and down the hall that led to the royal wing. 

As the king carried her on, Rowan felt her cheeks heat at the fact that she was going to Thorin’s room, and they were in love, and they loved each other, and oh gosh…She buried her face at his neck again, drawing from his strength as she felt the first flicker of uncertainty at what was probably going to happen very soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't take it any longer. Stubborn dwarf. 
> 
> Now, hopefully we can get on to the good stuff. 60 chapters later, LMAO
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	60. Chapter 60

Thorin walked them through the door to his chambers, and once inside, he allowed Rowan to slide down his body, though his hands never left her. He pressed his lips to hers, hungry, desperate, and needing, and the two of them stood for what seemed like forever, just kissing, and cuddling by the door. It was Rowan that finally pulled back and grinned up at him. 

“Your shirt is super wet and super sticky.” She plucked at the fabric, pulling it away from his skin with a wry smile. 

Thorin arched a brow. “Well, that’s because someone threw a glass of ale at me.” He reached over his head and tugged his shirt up, pulling it off and tossing it on the ground. Rowan sobered, her eyes landing on his chest, and then this all became too real. Thorin saw the momentary fear in her eyes, her realization of what they were about to do. He pulled her close and tucked her against him, his hands resting at the base of her spine. 

“Is this better?” 

“Much,” came her sweet whisper, and he pressed his nose at the top of her head, inhaling the scent of whatever it was she used to wash her hair. Cinnamon and something else, completely sweet and just like her, filled his nostrils. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? We can stop, there is no need to go any further if you should wish to quit, little one,” Thorin murmured, his sense of responsibility, and his need to ask her permission winning over his desire for her. However, deep inside, he selfishly hoped she’d not turn him away. He’d spent entirely too many nights dreaming of just this day, and to have it so close and then gone, well…

“I can’t lie and say I’m not a little scared,” Rowan admitted, shyly, as she looked up at him. “But don’t you think we’ve waited too long already?” 

“Indeed, I do!” Thorin breathed out, almost too excitedly, and Rowan had to giggle at him. 

She turned her attention back to his chest and slowly slid her hands up his stomach to rest on his pectoral muscles. He shivered at her touch, his muscles bunching and jerking and quivering, and Rowan was in awe at the feeling of hard stone encased in soft silk. His skin, for someone as war hardened as him, was a soft as she’d imagined it would be, the only texture that of the coarse hair that dusted the skin of his chest and stomach. Eru help her, but he was gorgeous. Thorin stood above her, his hands resting at her waist, watching her under hooded eyes. 

“Let me get a closer look.” Rowan murmured, feeling mischievous, and powerful, and so very womanly, pressed her nose at the center of his chest and inhaled, closing her eyes as she breathed him.

His own unique smell, tinged with the tangy scent of alcohol mingled in her nostrils, the smell of leather and smoke and hard work and _him_. She couldn’t help but press closer, using her nose to nuzzle at the dark thatch of hair that rested between his pectoral muscles. Her entire body was tinging with sensation, her flesh breaking out in goosebumps as she touched him.

Above her, Thorin had closed his eyes, and his head fell back in pleasure at the feeling of her lips pressed against his chest. _Mahal help him_. Her innocent touch would be his undoing. 

“You have no bloody idea what you do to me, do you?” Unable to withstand it any longer, he reached down, tugged at a handful of her hair as it rested against the back of her neck, and pulled, gently forcing her head back so that she had to look up at him. She was smiling, little devil that she was, and he couldn’t resist another kiss. After a moment, he lifted her up by his hands at the back of her thighs, and set her about his waist, urging her to wrap her legs about him as he walked them to his bed. He lay her down, and gently settled between her legs as they continued to kiss. 

He sucked her earlobe in-between his lips. “Do you trust me?” 

“Yes, of course,” she nodded up at him.

“And tell me again that you love me,” Thorin kissed her on the tip of her nose, his blue eyes so very vivid with love. 

“Only you,” she nodded again.

“Then kiss me, sweetheart, and let me make you mine.” 

Rowan did as he asked, and moments later, she was bared, and he was bared, and they were about to make love. She couldn’t stop shaking, and her body was covered in goosebumps, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the cold. She fought against the urge to cover herself from his gaze, and each time she slipped and did so, Thorin would gently remove her hands, and tell her just how glorious she was, and remind her that she never need hide from him. Minute by minute, and many sweet touches, kisses, and caresses later, she had fully revealed herself to him, and he to her. And by the time he’d chafed her breasts with his beard, and left bite marks on her soft skin with his lips and teeth, she was no longer caring about hiding, no longer embarrassed, and only wanted him to soothe the burning ache between her legs. She begged for him, she whined, she wriggled, all in an effort to get closer to him. She squirmed, restlessly against his hand as he grazed over her most sensitive flesh with a featherlike tough. Just enough to drive her insane with need, his fingers ghosted over her entrance, eliciting both fear and pleasure in equal parts. 

“You are so wet for me, aren’t you, little one…” Thorin murmured in awe as he cupped her with his warm palm, and then dragged his hand up, trailing one long digit over her entrance. He watched her face as he dipped a finger inside her, swirling it just at her entrance, and when she whimpered, he felt his cock grow even harder. Mahal have mercy on him...He pulled his hand back— 

“Thorin…” Rowan whined as she reached down to grab his wrist and hold him against her as she pushed at his hand, desperately seeking her release. 

Thorin cupped her again, delighting in her slickness as it coated his palm and his fingers. Hot, sticky deliciousness, and all for him covered his hand and the scent filled his nostrils. He wanted to ready her, and so he slipped one finger inside her wet channel, watching her face for any discomfort, but all he saw was pleasure. Her eyes were closed, a crease between her brows as she concentrated. Her soft lips were parted in a sweet ‘oh’, their flesh swollen and pink from his kisses, and when he chanced a look down to see his hand at her entrance, he saw another set of lips, also soft and pink and glistening with arousal. Just for him. He wanted to lean down and taste her, but he didn’t want to overwhelm her with the depth of his desire. Not yet. He pulled his hand back again, and this time, Rowan’s eyes popped open to look at him with a slight annoyance. He smiled, and kissed her with soft assurance that he would take care of her.

“Patience, sweet one. Patience.” 

He pressed her right thigh out with his hand, opening her to him, and used one hand to notch himself at her entrance before he settled back over her. Rowan closed her eyes, her hands resting on his waist. Thorin braced himself above her with one hand, and with his lips on hers, he pressed in, ever so gently. Rowan winced, her eyes popping open at the feeling of pressure building, and she saw that Thorin was watching her. He pulled back from the kiss, and settled with a nuzzle of his nose at hers as his hips stilled. He was just barely inside her, just the tip, but Mahal help him, he was aching so bad he wanted to die. 

“Am I hurting you?” His voice sounded like gravel to his ears. 

“A little, but I think…” she shifted under him, wiggling her hips – “I just need to move a bit, and—”

Her words died off as, when she moved, it allowed Thorin to sink in a little further, his wide girth stretching her in ways she’d never even imagined possible, and all she could do was drop her head back on the bed, her eyes closed as she felt him fully claim her. A burning, searing pain, and then a fullness that she felt all the way up her body. With a deep grunt rumbling out of his chest, Thorin shifted his hips just a fraction as he sank all the way in, and then he was buried within her, as deep as he could go, and there was nothing left between them, nothing separating him from her. Just blissful, searing heat enveloping him like he’d never been held before. They were one. He lifted his head to stare down at her, forcing his body to calm down and not ruin this moment. Rowan was still laying there, her eyes closed, and lip bitten between her teeth, and he knew he needed to slow down. Give her time to adjust to him. 

“Rowan, sweetheart, look at me.” He nuzzled her jaw, peppering her skin with kisses. “Open your eyes, sweetness, and look at me. I need to know you’re with me.” 

She did so, and when she was fully looking, Thorin saw how her pupils had grown wide with lust, the brown-green of her eyes almost black in intensity, and he couldn’t help but be a little proud that he was doing that to her. He was making her feel these things. He reached down and cupped one of her breasts with his rough hand, scraping the pad of his thumb over her taut nipple, and she let out a breathless moan, her body arching up off the bed as she leaned into his hand. Thorin frowned, his vision going dim as he felt an overwhelming sense of pleasure ripple through his body. He tried to focus on Rowan but felt as if he could not resist the closing of his eyes; It was so intense.

“Rowan, love…”

Unable to stop himself, he closed his eyes and dropped his head at her breast, as another wave of emotion wracked his body. He was shaking, his entire body taut as a bowstring as wave after wave of sensation coursed through his form. He’d never felt like this before, and as pleasurable as it was, it was unnerving. He felt like he was losing control of his entire body and mind, and he was worried he was going to die, so intense the feelings were. Another wave crashed over him, another shudder of his heart, another lurch in his breathing. Impossible pleasure. 

“Rowan, what is this? What’s happening?” 

Rowan kissed his forehead, and then his temple, and then tugged at his jaw so that he would look at her. When he did so, she smiled up at him with complete and utter adoration. 

“Now I know. Now we know.” 

“Know what?” Thorin grunted as another mind-numbing wave of pleasure washed over him, and he clenched his eyes and grit his teeth. His entire body had broken out in goosebumps, his heart was thundering, and he was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. His muscular arms trembled as he held himself aloft, and his grip on his sanity was slipping by the second. Never in all his life had he felt such pleasure as this. What on earth was happening? 

“Just how very much I love you, and how much you love me, and that we are supposed to be together.” She pulled his jaw again and forced him to look at her again. Thorin’s eyes were clouded with desire, turbulent and full of lust. “This is the only time I can share my gift with you, Thorin. It’s why it doesn’t work any other time. Now it all makes sense.” She squeezed him again, unknowingly flexing her unused internal muscles, causing her eyes to widen and her lips to part with the sensation. “Do you feel that? What I’m feeling?”

Realization hit Thorin as he understood her words, and then he, too, had to smile, despite how out of sorts he was. He fought against the urge to close his eyes and just feel, as he knew she needed his eyes to see hers. She needed to be connected to him, more than just physically. “I do. You’re doing this?” 

“We’re doing this,” Rowan replied as she placed her hands at his lower back and pulled him closer. Thorin grunted as he moved inside her, impossibly deeper, and again, he couldn’t fight the urge, and he had to lower his head at her shoulder. His eyes were clenched shut, his lips pressed at the soft skin of her neck. The pleasure was almost painful in its burning intensity, and he really wondered if he was going to survive this and her and their coming together.

“You’re going to kill me, I swear,” he grunted out as his hips began moving of their own accord. Rowan started panting, each slow pass of his body in hers dragging out another moan from her lips, another needy whine as she gripped his lower back, his hips, the area above his buttocks – whatever she could reach to bring him closer. Thorin grunted against her neck, wordlessly begging her to have mercy on him.

“I can’t help it, Thorin,” Rowan whined as she wiggled under him, and the king groaned again, realizing that he’d just spoken to her without words and she’d heard him. Her gift, bringing them so very close_. He had never been closer to anyone in his entire life_.

“_Thorin_…” she whined his name again, and truly, he didn’t know if it was in his head or out loud, and really he didn’t care. 

“Tell me what you want,” Thorin whispered against her lips as he rubbed lazy circles around her nipple. Her body was throbbing around him, and his was throbbing within her. The feel of her heat sheathing him so tightly, it was enough to drive him mad, and all he wanted to do was slam into her, over and over until he came, but he knew he couldn’t. He had to be patient. He took a deep, steadying breath and met her eyes again. 

“Tell me what you want, love,” he repeated, shifting just a bit so that he had a better angle as he dragged her leg up and tucked it at his side.   
  


Rowan couldn’t talk, and she had no words, and could only communicate with a desperate grasp of her hands as she pulled at him. Both closed their eyes and grunted at the sensations it caused as she was opened more fully to him. Her wetness was dripping down her thigh, coating his leg, and the blanket underneath them, a physical testament to how aroused she was. Thorin gripped her thigh in his hand and pushed into her, over and over, setting up first a steady, rocking pace. It quickly turned into something stronger, something harder and more desperate. Thorin began thrusting into her, over and over, and each time he pulled out a little further, and each time he slammed in a little harder. 

_Harder._

_Faster. _

_ **Impossibly deeper.** _

Thorin set up a frantic pace, a hard rocking that had the bed making noises, the sounds of their wet flesh slapping against each other’s’ competing with their panting in the quietness of the room. Thorin was begging her to come, and Rowan was begging him just the same –_ to let her come –_ clawing at his back, her mouth at his shoulder as she bit at him and then kissed him, her desire to be as close to him as possible overwhelming her need to see anything. _She just needed to feel him. _

Thorin was just as wrecked, his heart pounding and breath coming in shallow gulps as he struggled to maintain some control, and before too long, he knew that it was too much, and he wasn’t going to last, and so he pulled back far enough that he could reach down and flick at that bundle of nerves right above where they were joined. He needed her to come so badly, so fast, so that he could be relieved. He found that swollen bundle of flesh, and he used the rough pad of his thumb to rhythmically drag across it. He had only barely touched her there, when Rowan’s entire body bowed up off the bed, and he felt the internal tremors began as she started unraveling. He forcefully flicked at her swollen nub a few more times, ensuring she was well on her way, and then he curled around her, grasping her shoulders as he began thrusting in and out, taking her to the very edge of the precipice, and with a scream of his name against his shoulder, she fell, and took him with her. 

Rowan’s vision dimmed and sounds became muffled as wave after wave of pleasure snaked through her body, stemming from that spot at her core, and working its way up her entire self. She shook, her body was wracked with pleasure, her toes curling, and her hands desperately clawed at his shoulders, and just when she thought it was over, she felt Thorin jerk, and then shudder, and then a warmth was spreading through and within her. Thorin was still above her, his head buried at her neck, the only thing moving on him was his hips as he moved against her, chasing after the last remnants of his orgasm. Moments passed. He stopped shuddering and she stopped trembling, and they collapsed in each other’s arms, their bodies utterly spent. Rowan tenderly kissed at Thorin’s sweaty brow, and she felt him stir. He leaned up to stare down at her, and his blue eyes were filled with a mixture of disbelief and love. 

“As Mahal is my witness, I genuinely thought I was going to die,” Thorin panted as he sucked in his breath, and Rowan started laughing. The movement reminded them that they were still joined, and Thorin winced as he buried his head at her neck again. “Woman, you are certainly going to be the death of me.” 

“It’s an enjoyable way to die, though, isn’t it?” She laughed as she traced her fingers along his spine. He shivered under her touch, wiggling, and jerking as she reached spots that were more ticklish than others. She could lay like this forever and never want to move. Thorin leaned up again so that he could see her face, and in his countenance, she saw concern. 

“Did I hurt you very badly?” He asked her, a slight hesitation in his voice that pulled at her heart. 

“I’m fine, Thorin,” Rowan smiled. “More than fine, actually.” She lifted her legs and gripped his waist and gave an impish grin. “When can we do it again?” 

Thorin shook his head and gave a laugh of his own. “You, my lady, will need to rest before we do that again.” 

“But Thorin, why?” Rowan wiggled against him, and he frowned, though she could feel him growing inside her. It was strange, really, to be so connected to someone that you could physically feel every movement their body made. “I can feel you want me again…”

“Woman, I will want you every minute of every day for the rest of my life, but one of us has to be pragmatic here.” Thorin tenderly kissed her nose, and then her cheeks, and then her jaw, before his eyes met hers again. “This was your first time, sweetness. And I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.” 

“I love you,” Rowan kissed him softly. “So much.”

“And I you,” Thorin kissed her back. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

Rowan squeezed him again with her legs, and in doing so, she squeezed him internally, and he let out another groan as she whispered at his ear: “For you, yes. After tonight, I will always be hungry for this.” 

And just like that, and with nothing more than a shift of her body under his, Thorin found himself being entirely irresponsible as he made love to this woman once more. As he succumbed to her flesh and her eyes and her soft sighs and sweet whispers, he desperately prayed that he’d live to see tomorrow. And if he died in this process, then he supposed he be okay with that all the same…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been 84 years. I know. I apologize.


	61. Chapter 61

After the first, and then the second time making love, Rowan had been worn out, and despite wanting to experience more, she’d fallen fast asleep in his arms, a gentle ache between her thighs, a reminder that brought a tired smile to her face and a glow of happiness to her heart. She had no idea what time it was, or if it was day or night, and truthfully, she didn’t care. All that mattered was him and her and how they kept touching each other, and she vaguely remembered -_or maybe she was dreaming?_ – the feel of his mouth at her breast, and then at the junction between her thighs, and she thought that maybe she should be embarrassed at how lewd it was, but it didn’t matter anymore because it_ just felt so good_. The way his hands and fingers worked her, mapped her and learned her curves. The way he explored the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, the fullness of her breasts. The way his strong body moved over hers, the slide of skin against skin, the soft whispers of ‘I love you’ in her ear as he pulled her with him into yet another orgasm. The one time she remembered being fully awake, it was to the feeling of Thorin’s heavy palm against her core, his fingers trailing over her in the softest of touches. She had moaned for him, begged for him, and almost cried with relief when he finally entered her, and afterwards, she’d fallen into another heavy, dreamless sleep, again, tucked against his chest, with the sound of his heart beating steadily in her ear. 

Somehow, at some point, they’d made it the large tub in his bathroom after spending hours in his bed. Rowan should be exhausted by any right, but the feeling of needing to be with Thorin, to know every part of his body in the most intimate way, had allowed her to only catch an hour of sleep here and there. Thorin was also much wearier than he’d like to admit, though he would not turn her down. Not now, and not ever. 

Being with her was an experience like none other, and each time they came together, she showed him another small part of her heart, allowed him another glimpse into her soul, and he felt such a connection with her that he’d never, ever felt before. While he had been afraid before, scared even, to feel such a depth of emotion again, he recognized that whatever he felt previously was just a fraction of a possibility of what love could feel like and be like. And once he’d given in – _once he’d let her in_ – he couldn’t help but feel as if a hundred pounds of weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he could finally relax. He wondered if this was what being at peace felt? It was strange, and unsettling, exciting and terrifying, and he knew it would take getting used to. But either way, he liked it very much. How on earth he had survived without her before all this, he did not know. And he knew, beyond a shadow of any doubt, that he would spend the rest of his life trying to make her happy. He wanted nothing more than to see her smile at him, just like she was doing right now from across the bath.

“Can I ask what you’re thinking about?” Rowan asked from the far side of the tub. A tub was an understatement, though, as Thorin’s bath was more like a small, stone pool, built into his bathroom floor. It could easily hold more people. 

He gazed at lazily, his hair floating around the tops of his shoulders, and gave the short answer. “Only how much I love you.” 

She smiled back at him, lovingly, and his heart swelled. 

“Is the water easing your pain?” He suddenly asked, drawing both their attentions back to the main reason they were still in the water. Rowan had winced earlier upon standing to go to the bathroom, and Thorin had immediately felt guilty for taking such advantage of her. He’d apologized, and she’d shushed him, of course, but he wasn’t having it, and here they were, in his warm bath for over an hour now. The sun was beginning to dip down below the horizon, indicating that night was approaching. 

“Thorin, stop worrying, please.” She cupped some water in her hands and playfully splashed it at him. He was still frowning. 

“I don’t like to think that you may be hurting.” 

“I’m fine. It’s the way of things, and it’s over. And I am very pleased with how you hurt me. And I’d most definitely like for you to do it again.” She grinned at him, impishly, and he found he couldn’t be mad at her. 

“How will I do that when you are so very far away, though…” He scratched his beard, and dropped his head back down to rest on the edge of the pool. He stared up at the ceiling, and waited; He knew she’d come. A moment later, the water began swishing and she was there, atop him, just as he’d hoped. 

Rowan crawled through the water and over him, straddling his hips as she rested her hands about his shoulders. “What would my king like me to do?”

He lifted his head to see her face, and his blue eyes shone with love. And a lot of surprise. 

“I thought you said I would never be your king,” Thorin reminded her, one kingly brow arched. She pinched his side, earning a yelp from him. 

“That was before I fell in love with you.” 

“And now, you are content with me?” 

“Do you even have to ask?” Rowan leaned down and pressed a kiss at the base of his throat, and then his jaw, and then over his cheeks until she found his lips and captured them with her own. 

“You have bewitched me, woman,” Thorin murmured as he pulled her close so that he could return the favor and capture her lips with his. “My witch…” 

“Your witch…” Rowan repeated, gracing him with a shy smile that he was quickly beginning to adore even more. 

He watched her under hooded eyes, amazed at how responsive she was to his touch, and he couldn’t help but feel pride in knowing that he and he alone had been the one to introduce this magnificent creature the world of pleasure. And there was still so much he wanted to show her… _Mahal save him and his depraved thoughts. _

Rowan moved her arms so that she was pressed against him, her breasts flat against the hard planes of his chest, and as she moved, her core met his heavy erection. In just a matter of hours, Rowan had learned what her touch did to this King Under the Mountain, and she could not deny the thrill it gave her, how powerful and how very feminine it made her feel to have such an effect on someone like him. Her eyes met his, and she knowingly smirked. “Well…” she reached down and slid her hand between them so that she could grasp him firmly. “What have we here?” 

Thorin swallowed, allowing his head to fall back against the wall of the pool, and watched her under hooded eyes. His throat was working as her hand worked his member, up and down, each pass of her hand over him making him harder than he thought possible. Rowan stroked him, up and down, her small hand wrapped tightly around him, and fingers ghosting over his tip, the pressure just enough to make his mouth go dry and his heart flutter erratically in his chest. He fought the urge to bury himself within her again, wanting to test his limits and allow her the freedom to explore his body as he’d so thoroughly explored her.

“Do you know how much power you have over me?” Thorin found himself whispering in awe as the touch of her hands, and the feeling of her body, so slight in comparison to his, figuratively brought him to his knees. “Truly, I don’t think you have the slightest idea…” 

Rowan lifted herself, no longer content with using her hand, and shifted so that she could slide down on him. Thorin hissed as she slid own his length, and Rowan dropped her head back, her eyes closed in concentration as she enveloped him in her heat. When she finally opened her eyes, it was to see him staring back at her from behind thick lashes, the blues of his eyes black with lust. His sensual mouth was pressed in a taut line that she quickly kissed away. 

“I don’t want any power over you,” she murmured against the corner of his mouth as she rolled her hips against him, tugging at him as she moved. His hands slipped below the water to grasp her hips and hold her in place. “I just want you to love me forever.” 

Thorin leaned close to her and pressed his lips at her throat, licking and biting and sucking as he softly thrusted his hips up. Rowan gave a soft sigh, moving her head to the side so that her lover could have better access, and she conceded to him. 

“And I will love you forever, my beauty.”

* * *

At some point after the bath, Rowan had fallen asleep again, and when she woke up and reached for Thorin, she found he was gone. She sat up, wiping the sleep from her eyes and looked for him, and found him sat at his desk, his back to her as he did something by the soft glow of light given off by the fireplace. A quick glance at the window revealed that night had come. She sleepily crawled off his bed, wrapping the sheet around her as she padded over to him. He looked up with a soft smile, and opened his arms, and she crawled into his lap.

She yawned into his neck. “I woke up and you were gone.”

“I was here, love. I needed to read some of the contracts before tomorrow morning.” He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her in a hug. “I’ve had food brought. Are you hungry?”

Her stomach growled in response, and the king chuckled. He reached over, and pulled the plate of food closer, an assortment of cheese and breads and meat pies and fruit. He plucked a chocolate cake up and lifted it to her nose. Her eyes popped open again, and she smiled at the pastry. 

“You remembered.” 

“I’ve told Bombur to make sure these cakes are always ready should you want one.” 

Rowan spoke around a mouthful. “Yes, and if you keep this up, I’ll be as big as Bombur.” 

“And I will love you just the same, curves and all.” 

Rowan leaned back against his chest and finished her cake, satisfied for the moment. Despite not wanting to, her eyes fluttered closed, and within moments, she was asleep again, lulled by the steady thump of his heart under her cheek.

* * *

“Good morning, _amrâlimê_”.”

Rowan vaguely heard his words, and with sleep in her eyes, she reached for him, smiling when she felt the solid wall of heat as he lay next to her. She crawled over and draped herself over him, holding him tight as she pressed a kiss at the center of his chest as she gripped a handful of his shirt. _His shirt?_ She frowned.

“Why are you dressed?” 

“I’m the king, love, and I have work to do,” Thorin answered her as he twirled some of her hair about his finger. She needed braids, and she needed his bead in her hair as soon as possible. 

“But already?” Rowan frowned with unhappiness. “Can’t we have just a little more time?” 

“I’d love nothing more than to stay with you all day and all evening, but who would run the kingdom?” Thorin asked with a smile. Rowan stubbornly refused to let him up, and she had clung to him even tighter. 

“I’m sure Balin isn’t busy…” 

Thorin huffed out a laugh, and then easily sat up, taking her with him. He adjusted her so that she was straddling him, and his hands rested at her lower back. He smiled at her, and Rowan found herself blushing in the light of day, for whatever reason. After yesterday and last night, she had nothing left to hide from him, as he’d seen and touched and tasted every square inch of her body. 

“I look like a mess, don’t I?” She subconsciously felt her hair, wincing when she felt how much in disarray it was. Thorin kissed her on the tip of her nose. And then each cheek, and then her forehead. And then her nose again, and his eyes found hers once more.

“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen in my entire life.” 

“Liar,” Rowan argued, but there was a smile on her face. 

The king’s hand tangled in the mass of hair that rested against the nape of her neck and ran his fingers through it. “Tonight, when I return, I would like to braid your hair.” 

Rowan tilted her head and gave a curious look. “Is that something dwarves do to each other?” 

“Yes,” Thorin answered. “And when they are courting, they place their bead in their lover’s hair, a sign to all that we belong to each other.”

“You want to court me?” Rowan felt her eyes well with tears. 

“I want to marry you,” Thorin answered, his own eyes appearing misty as he gave her the sweetest smile she’d ever seen. She hugged him tightly, her arms about his neck, and her legs around his waist, and she never, ever wanted to let him go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some fluffy little fluff. Hope you like it. I am so happy we've gotten to this point.


End file.
